Ravenous
by smithsbabe65
Summary: Based on the film “Hannibal Rising”. This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday. This is my first “Hannibal” fic ever. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Ravenous **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. . And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter One**

"Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter. And welcome to the Napa River Inn. I am Alfred Napier, the hotel concierge. If there is anything I can do to make your stay a more pleasant one, please do not hesitate to ring me at any hour. Day or night, I am at your disposal."

The tall slender young man with a pale face that accentuated the indigo irises of his eyes, nodded slightly, silently acknowledging Mr. Napier's greeting. He stood perfectly still as he coolly regarded the nervous little hotel employee with a discriminating eye.

Wordlessly, his hard cold gaze never wavered as he visually dissected the poorly dressed caretaker, mentally taking note of all of his faults and weaknesses in a matter of seconds.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter inwardly smiled when he finally deciphered the concierge's closely guarded secrets.

Simply put, the man was a fraud.

He was nothing more than a two-bit huckster. From the cheap time piece he wore on his hairy wrist to the distasteful malodorous aftershave that tainted the very air around him. The man blatantly offended anyone of good taste merely with his presence.

It did not surprised the learned physician, that Napier, like a lowly grifter, was hustling Lecter for an extra dollar or two with his counterfeit charm. To make matters worse, his attempt to disguise his mediocrity with a continental accent was downright laughable.

Napier, if that was his real name, may have been trying to sound suave and well traveled, but to Hannibal's discerning ear, he could still hear the traces of a Kentuckian twang. He might have been able to fool his unsuspecting employers and some of the _nouveau riche_ clientele that frequented this hotel. But Hannibal Lecter saw Mr. Napier for what he really was: a peasant, a miserable little sycophant desperately trying to elevate his station in life by posing as a man of breeding and sophistication.

It was very hard to believe this five-star establishment would hire such a man. Hannibal quickly made a mental note to remedy the situation as soon as possible.

It was a good thing that he had insisted upon procuring a suite equipped with a kitchen. It's been awhile since he has allowed himself the pleasure to indulge in the culinary arts. And the doctor's mouth practically watered as he imagined what a fine soufflé Napier's sweetbreads would make. Perhaps he would accompany the meal with a bottle of the one many wines he had come here to sample during his stay in Napa Valley.

_I will be sure to ask Mr. Napier what his recommendation will be before I cut out his heart_. _I wouldn't want to partake of an inferior vintage. Perish the thought!_

Oblivious of the murderous musings of the impeccably attired young guest towering over his desk, Mr. Napier tried his best not display an ounce of the trepidation he was feeling.

However, being subjected to the weighty gaze of those two dark orbs that appeared almost violet as the scrutiny intensified, Mr. Napier couldn't help but feel the unwelcome sensation of cold beads of sweet start to form as the base of his receding hairline.

Upon seeing the first hints of nervous perspiration on the concierge's brow, the faint smile that had tugged at the corners of Hannibal's well formed mouth became broader.

Lecter so enjoyed asserting his superiority over weak-minded men. And his ability to immediately dominate and intimidate them without uttering a single word is what made him an alpha-male in every sense.

But alas, he had tired of this game and was anxious to be shown to his suite so that he could freshen up a bit before dinner.

When at last he spoke, Dr. Lecter's voice sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter.

His silky tones, never once betrayed the complete contempt he felt for this man. "Thank you, Mr. Napier. It's good to know that a man such as yourself is so accessible. Rest assured I will call upon you when the occasion arises."

He then punctuated his statement with a smile intended to be friendly in nature. But the affable intention failed to reach his eyes. Indeed, Hannibal was staring daggers at the man. Malevolent intent danced in those orbs whose shade had now deepened to a dark maroon. Eyes so cold, so calculating, that the little concierge could not help but shudder at the sight of them.

It was at that moment that Napier decided that he no longer wished to be in this man's presence. There was something about this young Dr. Lecter that was not quite right, and bit off kilter.

He could sense it.

But that was not surprising. After spending 16 years doing hard time in a Kentucky prison, a man picks up on things, develops an almost sixth sense on how to spot the crazies, the really dangerous inmates. Those really quiet bastards that seem normal one minute. But in the next instant, could easily slice a man's belly wide open, let his innards spill out and not think twice about it.

_Yep, there's no doubt about this one. This guy's as crazy as they get! _

Nervously, Napier began to tug at his collar, when he suddenly felt the garment constricting around his neck like a hangman's noose.

"Well then, Dr. Lecter. If there is nothing else that you require of me, I'll have Ramon assist you with your bags and show you to your suite. If you'll excuse me, I have other duties that I must attend to."

"Of course you do. And far be it for me to keep you from your obligations. Thank you again for your most generous offer. Please be assured that I plan on taking you up on it…soon."

Again, a small shiver of revulsion shot up Napier's spine as he snapped his fingers to get Ramon, the bellboy's attention.

A young Chicano wearing a smart looking royal blue uniform adorned with shiny gold buttons immediately heeded the call that had beckoned him. He quickly walked over to where his supervisor and the slick looking guest were standing. He stood rigidly, like a solider at attention, ready to receive his next instructions.

Casting a callous gaze at the Mexican-American employee, Mr. Napier addressed his underling with crisp supercilious tones that did little to conceal the bigotry he felt toward him. "Ramon, I want you to escort our guest, Dr. Lecter to suite 727. Make sure to also bring up his bags. And be quick about it, is that understood?"

Hannibal noticed that despite the obvious attempt to belittle Ramon in his presence, the young man held his head high and leveled a steady gaze at Napier before he replied.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Napier, right away."

lllll

There were two things in this miserable world that Hannibal Lecter abhorred. One, of course was rudeness of any kind. The second was prejudice. The latter was born out of intolerance, ignorance, hate and fear, nothing more.

And that is what made it so evil.

First there had been Intolerance. Like a careless mother, she had turned a blind eye as millions perished in the wake the Great War.

Next was her ugly cousin, Ignorance. It was his ill-begotten seed that had spawned monsters like Hitler and the Third Reich, followed by Grutas and his little band of bloodthirsty cohorts.

Soon enough Hate had shown her beautiful wanton face. As she encircled her hungry arms around him, Hannibal had allowed Hate to consume him. It was she that had whetted his appetite for retribution.

Like a secret lover, Hate had whispered to him maddening words of conviction and self-righteousness, arousing his bloodlust. Hate had been his constant companion, his only comfort at times. Until one day he had decided to let her out of her cage and play.

Hate had been unleashed and with her followed all of the powers of Hell. And how she had danced! Gleefully, she had pirouetted around Hannibal in a macabre ballet. Like a demented cheerleader, she had loudly rooted for her killer, delighted that she had played a crucial role in the creation of such a creature. Every cut, every gouge, every pound of flesh Hannibal had consumed had been for his dearly departed sister, Mischa.

But later he had found that he had done it mostly for himself. Revenge, Hannibal discovered is a selfish, self-serving emotion and the one that doles it out is never satisfied.

And then came the worst one of all, Fear. In her icy grip Hannibal had been rendered impotent, as the memories of his sister ravaged his soul night after night.

It had been Fear, heartless, soulless bitch that she was, that had robbed him of his one chance at love. It was that hated Fear he had last seen in his lady's eyes, cruel and taunting. That spiteful emotion had stared back at him as Lady Murasaki's words of rejection cast Hannibal out of her life forever, and had consigned him to a life of blood and death.

lllll

_Lady Murasaki. _

Just the thought of her evoked so many memories of Hannibal's not so distant past.

As he followed earnest bellhop to the elevator doors, he fondly he recalled her dark eyes. They were endless, timeless pools of mystery that carefully guarded the innermost secrets of her heart. That never stopped him though from staring intently into them in a futile attempt to discover her clandestine truths.

Then there was her glorious hair, lustrous raven tresses that poured down her back like liquid midnight. Every soft lock was fragrant with the faint scent of jasmine and orange blossoms. The memory of running his long elegant fingers through that magnificent mane brought a smile on the young physician's face. He can't help but remember how sublime it had been.

Lost in his reverie, Hannibal watched with casual disinterest as Ramon depressed the "up" button for the elevator car.

"It won't be but a moment, sir." The bellhop said in a reassuring tone before he gave Lecter a genuine smile.

Impressed, Lector returned the smile and this time it was reflected in his eyes.

"How refreshing, to find someone that possesses both courtesy and sincerity. With attributes such as these, Mr. Marquez, you'll go far in the hospitality business."

Ramon was astounded that a guest of Dr. Lecter's caliber had addressed him in such a friendly manner. Most visitors to the hotel had treated him with indifference until they needed something and then it was "Hey you" or "You there, boy".

Almost no one had ever called him by his given name, "Ramon". And never did he dream in his wildest imagination that someone would ever address him as "Mr. Marquez".

Wow! That really meant something! And it seemed that Dr. Lecter liked Ramon. That was also a rare occurrence, especially in the world of the Haves and Have Nots. Where he came from Chicano kids knew their place, as his father liked to remind him everyday.

"_This is the White Man's world, hijo._ _Don't forget that! You're lucky to even have a job at that fancy hotel! Just don't let it go to your head. Remember who you are and where you come from, Ramon!"_

He sure was lucky. He got to lug around heavy bags for all of the rich, white _pendejos_ and get paid minimum wage for his trouble. But he quickly deduced that it was probably better than being a dishwasher. Besides he couldn't afford to complain. He was working his way through medical school and needed this job in this worse way.

Then something odd had struck him:

_Wait a minute, I never told Dr. Lecter my last name! How in the hell…?_

Then as if he had read Ramon's mind, the youthful physician said, "If you're wondering how I know your surname Ramon, it happens to be engraved on the nametag pinned to the lapel of your jacket."

Ramon felt his cheeks grow hot as the blush of embarrassment spread across his face.

Thankfully, after being heralded by a loud "ding", the arrival of the elevator car saved Ramon from further humiliation.

When the metal doors slid open, Ramon quickly pushed in the cart that held all three of Lecter's suitcases into the unoccupied elevator car. When the cart was secured, the doctor stepped gingerly into the elevator.

The bellhop again smiled at Lecter as he pressed the button for the 7th floor. Lecter politely smiled back.

But just as the doors to the elevator were about to slide close, the familiar scents of orange blossoms and jasmine were suddenly in the air.

At first, Hannibal had attributed the exotic fragrance to a strong recollection from his early youth. But when the heady bouquet caused his nostrils to involuntarily flare, he knew that this was no mere phantom from his past.

_Lady Murasaki._

She was here! It was his lady! And she was in this very hotel! Hannibal was certain of it!

But how could this be?

The last he had known of his aunt's whereabouts, she had returned to her life in the Land of the Rising Sun. Sadly, she had had her fill of the West and longed to be amongst her people, surrounded by the things she loved.

The doors of the elevator were almost completely shut, when a lyrical voice called out.

"Please hold the door!"

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat as his eyes fluttered closed. Recognition gave way to recollection as past and present collided. The dulcet tones were unmistakable. They could only have belonged to the woman that had been everything to him for so many years.

lllll

Aunt, mother, sister, teacher, companion and ultimately protector and accomplice, she was all of those things to Hannibal. But, oh how he had desired so much more. He imagined himself partaking of her body, as his hands caressed the perfection of her flesh, and his hungry mouth devoured hers. This had been his most secret wish.

How many nights had the hormonal young man spend in masturbatory pursuits?

There had been too many to count.

His once pristine white bed sheets would always end up drenched with the sweat of his body as he had pleasured himself thinking of her beautiful pale skin, her full red lips and those dark eyes that could see into his very soul.

Somewhere in his fevered brain the pitiful little voice of reason had spoken to him once or twice. It had reminded Hannibal that what he had felt for his aunt was wrong, immoral and even incestuous in nature.

And for a little while feelings of guilt had kept his passion in check. But when he had found himself in the solace of his room, alone with his thoughts of her, he just could not help himself.

Those hot nights had always ended the same way, with his hand pumping up and down his raging erection, furiously working toward the inevitable white sticky finale. And when it had all been over, all he could manage to say was, "Reason be damned!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Ravenous **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter two**

"Please hold the door!"

There it was again, that unforgettable voice. Its melodious tones cruelly reminded Hannibal of the passage of time. Two whole years had gone by without a single word between them, no letters, no telephone calls, nothing at all but the inescapable silence of her absence from his life.

Hannibal had been left with only his memories of the graceful lady that could not love him for what he was.

_There is nothing left of you to love._

The tragic utterances of his beloved aunt had been spoken with such eloquent finality. Her cruel words had been the final blow that shattered Hannibal's fragile hold on humanity like fine lead crystal.

And then she was gone.

Like an otherworldly apparition, Lady Murasaki had disappeared within the strangling clouds of smoke as the roaring fire overwhelmed Grutas' ship.

Perhaps she had been right. Perhaps there had been no compassion left in him.

_That's because when you left, my lady, you tore out my heart._

lllll

Two years ago, the young fugitive had escaped the long arm of the law, much to Inspector Popil's chagrin.

The relentless hunter of war criminals had growled in frustration when the biggest prize of his illustrious career had evaded capture once more. With mournful eyes, he had watched the flames of hell lick at the night sky.

Meanwhile, Lecter had moved surreptitiously through the woods, distancing himself from the ship's inferno. He had almost felt sorry for the man that had so doggedly pursued him. Popil had been such a worthy adversary. However his instincts to survive, at any cost, superseded the entertaining game of cat and mouse.

Regrettably for the inspector, he had been forced to swallow a very bitter pill indeed. Popil slowly had to come to terms with the knowledge that the monster that was Lecter had ceased his bloody rampage at least on French soil.

But he had sworn by everything he held sacred that if their paths should ever cross again, then Popil would do everything within his power to take Lecter down.

And by any means necessary.

As for Lecter, he had one more debt to collect, and soon he had set his sights on the Americas. Canada to be precise. But when the final act of vengeance had been carried out, strangely enough, it was not as satisfying as he had hoped.

The gaping wound left in his heart by Mischa's death had only grown deeper when his lady had spurned his love. And no amount of time could heal the persistent torment. No matter how many victims he had greedily devoured, the chasm of despair would never be filled.

Left alone and wanting once more, Hannibal had felt doomed to be a lonely tragic figure condemned to walk the earth, searching for the fulfillment that eternally eluded him.

And in Hannibal's isolation, his appetite for human flesh had become voracious, insatiable. In a word, he had become ravenous.

Sadly, however, the young medical student inevitably came to the realization that his nocturnal feeding rituals would have to be temporarily postponed.

Hannibal had neglected his promising career as a physician for far too long. Thus Hannibal Lecter had decided to approach his residency at John Hopkins University with great zeal.

Surprisingly, his academic pursuits had proven to be challenging, invigorating even. Hannibal had reveled in the discovery of a whole new world of scientific advances. The prestigious medical school that he had attended in France had only managed to teach him so much.

It wasn't that Hannibal had been grateful for the lessons. In fact, it was quite the contrary. And under the strict guidance and tutelage of his instructors, the quiet young man had excelled. Teachers and fellow students alike had admired his intelligence and keen insight. Hannibal earnestly applied his natural talents to the pursuit of medicine, as his meticulous nature had served him well.

However in France he had been a big fish in a small pond. Soon he had not only met the goals he had set for himself, he had ultimately surpassed them.

But when he arrived at John Hopkins he soon learned that it would take more than being smart to succeed.

Lecter had to be brilliant.

Not that he hadn't been up to the task, of course, there had never been any doubt of his genius.

However, the medical and scientific innovations in the States had been far more advanced than in European sectors. Lecter had to stay on his toes and ahead of the game at all times.

Yes, his studies had been difficult and at times even grueling. But the extra effort he had put in soon paid off. Hannibal had not only skyrocketed to the top of his class. He was still the youngest and brightest star to have ever graced the hallowed halls of the prestigious university.

His lady would have been proud him.

lllll

And now it was his lady's voice he was hearing after all this time.

Like worn out recording of his favorite music, he quickly replayed the fond memories of those gentle whispers in the middle of the night, the words of comfort that had soothed his troubled heart.

And oh, how he had loved her melodious laugh. Hilarity had been a rare occurrence, to be sure. But when his lady did actually express amusement, the harmonious sound she produced was glorious.

It had been Lady Murasaki's laughter had finally resurrected the smile on the boy that had been traumatized by tragedy and war.

He thought he would never hear that voice again.

And yet, by some undeserved miracle, his lady, his love, was just beyond his reach on the other side of the elevator doors.

Hannibal did his utmost best to contain his excitement. But the anticipation and anxiety of seeing the former ambassador's daughter made his head swim.

_She is_ _perfection personified, an ethereal creature among mortals._

_Lady Murasaki Shikibu, I am not worthy of you_.

Dark blue eyes glittered as they intently watched Ramon. He had almost willed the young man to press the large red and white button with his gaze alone.

_Press the bloody button, damn you! Hurry or she'll be gone!_

Hannibal was thinking almost irrationally. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he fought the urge to push the bellhop out of the way and open the doors himself.

But just as he was about to give up all hope, Ramon at last complied with Lecter's secret request by pushing down on the blessed key.

Swiftly, his hungry eyes fixed themselves on the metal portal. As the doors slowly slid open, Dr. Hannibal Lecter inhaled deeply, holding his breath he waited.

Like a silver curtain, the doors were completely open, finally revealing the striking woman that still haunted his dreams and fueled his fantasies.

He had duplicated her likeness over the years, but his pitiful drawings had failed to capture the beauty of this lotus flower known to him as Lady Murasaki.

"Thank you," she said simply, grateful to whomever had held the car for her.

Although at the present moment, her gaze was downcast as she discreetly adjusted her dress. But when she slowly turned her dark eyes toward the elevator car, her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

There standing just inside the doors was the reason for her greatest love and her most tragic sorrow.

Their eyes had locked as they stared at one another in disbelief. Each of them was afraid to speak or make any sudden moves that would break the spell that had been cast over them.

When she could no longer stand the silence, Murasaki dared to whisper his name. "Hannibal?"

The young doctor smiled, but before he had the opportunity to reply, the sound someone else's voice intruded on this special moment.

"Lecter, is that you?"

The loving smile that had been displayed on Hannibal's lips rapidly contorted into a terrible grimace.

There, standing directly behind his lady was his greatest enemy. He had been the thorn in his side, the fly in Hannibal's ointment.

He was now face to face with none other than Inspector Pascal Popil.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ravenous **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Special Mention:** I want to also take this opportunity to thank all of you wonderful people for your kind reviews! I love each and every one of you! And you sure know how to make a girl feel welcome!

**Chapter Three**

"Ah, my dear Inspector Popil, how good it is to see you again."

Hannibal, with the wiliness of a fox, did not miss a single beat.

Initially he had been slightly taken aback by the unexpected presence of the French investigator.

Thankfully though, good breeding and impeccable manners had interceded on his behalf allowing him to recover flawlessly.

The good doctor just could not imagine himself standing there staring at his arch nemesis with a slack-jawed expression as he struggled for something witty to say.

No, it was imperative that someone keep up proper decorum. So naturally Lecter elected himself to carry out the task.

Determined to exude nothing else save the refined charm that his noble blood demanded of him, the last Count of Castle Lecter slightly bowed to his antagonist in a gesture of respect.

Afterward, he began to leisurely approach his lady. Every step he took was measured, calculated, stalking his lost love like a predator on the hunt.

Murasaki, in turn, could only watch him draw closer. Her pulse raced when she noticed the wicked gleam in his eyes that bored into her with purposeful intent.

Like a frightened egret desperate to take flight, she longed to escape Hannibal's looming onslaught.

But the great lady soon found she was rooted the ground she stood upon. Her long strong legs, well toned due to hours of practicing the ancient marital art of kendo, were now rendered useless and rubbery as fear took over. It was all she could do to keep herself from trembling like a terrified child.

Lady Murasaki railed against her growing anxiety. She could feel all of her strength being sapped from her body as Hannibal drew nearer and nearer still. Her knees grew weak and she feared she would not be able to hold herself up much longer.

But, she was not vanquished yet! There was still the warrior spirit that dwelled within her. She had always relied upon its energy to get her through any adversity. It had seen her through the War, and the horrors of Hiroshima. She knew that if she called upon its powers now, the spirit would not fail to protect her against Lecter.

Evoking the countless generations of samurai that came before her, they spoke to her now in one voice.

_Mursasaki, what is wrong with you?! You are descendant from a long line of warriors! We were the keepers of the Bushido Code! We raised empires and drove the hated _gaijin _from our soil! It is our blood that flows through your veins!_

_Show this boy, this killer who you really are and that you are not afraid! He is nothing but a butcher who kills without purpose, without honor! He is not worthy of you!_

Heeding the words of her forefathers, Murasaki quickly she leveled a hard gaze on upon Hannibal. Her eyes, black and glossy were now unfathomable depths of infinite ambiguity. Like dark shields that guarded her very soul, Lady Murasaki successfully concealed her fears.

From deep within her, she gathered the sheer iron will, passed down to her from her ancestors, to transform her beautiful countenance into a stoic mask of porcelain that betrayed nothing.

Jutting out her stubborn pointed chin, Lady Murasaki stood as proud as a samurai on the field of battle, waiting for her enemy to strike.

Then at long last he stood before her, towering above her small delicate frame. Here he was the last surviving member of her family, the boy she had taken to her bosom and loved as her very own.

But it was plain to see from the short distance between them, that the boy was now a man, very much so. He had grown more handsome, if that were possible. And although his attractive face had lost its angelic quality, maturity did not diminish his beauty.

When she finally looked into his eyes, she noticed they were about two shades darker than she remembered.

The characteristic sapphire color that had been predominate in the Lecter family was still present in Hannibal's eyes, but his seemed to have taken on a reddish tint that made them appear violet.

And she was almost certain that those haunting eyes, from time to time, had become blood red when Hannibal was driven to kill.

As own her eyes continued to search his face she could not help but wonder if there was any trace of humanity left in him.

_Oh Hannibal, how can I reconcile your two halves? I have loved the man, but now revile the monster you've become. Will I ever be able to reconcile my own feelings when comes to you? I have prayed to end my torment. I do not wish to carry on with this burden you've left me to bear! I cannot continue this conflict of love and loathing that has branded my heart with your mark! _

But from the moment Hannibal gently took one of her delicate hands into his own, and felt the familiar warmth she had so desperately missed, Lady Murasaki knew, in a heartbeat, she had been defeated.

And in spite of her formidable opposition, an almost inaudible gasp slipped past her painted red lips as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Transfixed by the man that had once been the boy she had reared and cared for. She silently marveled at his smooth sophistication as he raised her hand to his lips. The memory of those very supple lips on hers had been called to the forefront, and caused her checks to burn hotly.

She recalled how inexperienced Hannibal had been. A mere child when last they had kissed. His mouth had been a bit too eager, as his hands, like two groping meat hooks, had greedily caressed her body.

_But, ah, the sensation of his attentions had felt delicious nonetheless_.

Unknowingly, those sloppy wet kisses had been tender nonetheless, reawakening a dangerous passion. His touch, so innocent and unassuming at first, had revived a gnawing hunger that had long since been dormant since Robert passed on.

Their forbidden love, unconsummated, had burned her through and through.

And now, as Hannibal tenderly brushed the pale skin of her hand with that perfect mouth, Murasaki squeezed her eyelids tightly in a futile attempt to hold back the deluge of tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

As for Lecter, he desired nothing more than to allow his lips linger on her soft warm skin. Etiquette, however, eventually prevailed when he gradually relinquished her hand.

His eyes though, did not discharge his Japanese lady so easily. He held her with his fervent stare as his violet irises took in every feature of her exquisite face.

Despite his original intent to gaze longingly upon Lady Murasaki, there was something about her that forced the skillful physician in Hannibal to instinctively take over. His eyes clinically scrutinized her from head to toe as he tried to ascertain any infinitesimal signs of illness or minute changes to her appearance since he had seen her last.

Disconcertingly, he did notice that she was a bit underweight. And despite the cosmetic foundation she had carefully applied to her face, Hannibal could still see the faint traces of dark circles under her eyes.

_She has not been sleeping well and is in need of proper nourishment. Judging from the matching luggage under her eyes, she is no doubt anemic as well. What could be distressing my lady so?_

_And more importantly what is she doing here with the inspector?_

"My lady, you are certainly a welcomed sight to these tired eyes."

The sound of his silky voice surrounded and penetrated her all at once causing Murasaki to open her eyes.

"Hannibal, you are looking well." Her tone was soft but curt. She granted him a small nod out of common courtesy.

Just then Ramon, who had been politely watching this strange yet fascinating exchange between the doctor and the beautiful woman, cleared his throat to remind them of his presence.

"Pardon me Dr. Lecter. Would you like me to go on ahead of you? I will make sure that your bags are placed in your suite with the utmost care."

Then as an afterthought he added, "That would allow you more time to get reacquainted with your friends."

Poor Ramon did not see the glare that flashed across Pascal Popil's eyes when he uttered that last statement, but Hannibal did.

_Ah, Inspector still resentful since our last encounter? _

Without looking back the doctor smiled at Ramon Marquez's thoughtfulness. He was indeed a courteous young man.

"No, that's quite alright, Mr. Marquez. I shall accompany you to my room. I would to freshen up and perhaps take a walk on the grounds before supper this evening. I always like to survey my surroundings whenever I go."

"I bet you do, you bastard!" Popil muttered under his breath in French.

Hannibal's smile broadened as he turned sharply to look at his old foe.

"Why Pascal, I thought you'd never ask! Of course I will join you and Lady Murasaki for dinner! I can't think of a more pleasant way to spend the evening."

"W-what in the hell…?" The inspector was now fuming, furious at Lecter's audacity, his outright arrogance.

Pleased with himself for still having the ability to push Popil's buttons, Hannibal gracefully decided it was now time to take his leave.

As he turned to go he cast one last backward glance at the two dumbfounded people staring back at him.

"Then it's settled, dinner it is, in my suite at 8 o'clock. And I'm cooking so I do hope you bring your appetites!"

The lady and the inspector quietly watched as the dapper young man stepped back into the lift. They waited until the doors closed. And when he was finally out of their sight, they allowed themselves to finally expel the breath of air each had been holding in so forcefully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ravenous **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Honorable Mention:** This chapter is dedicated to my three muses:

_Mishka Germash_: You've been a revelation.

_Kudva18_: Most definitely my inspiration.

_Bugs Are Eating My Face_: You garner my admiration!

My dears, this one's for you!

**Chapter Four**

Several hours later, Lady Murasaki, seated at the vanity table provided by the hotel, was slowly applying the finishing touches of her ruby red lipstick onto her pouty lips.

Wanting to look exceptionally beautiful this evening, she had chosen to also shadow the lids of her almond shaped eyes with a smoky shade of charcoal. Combined with the ivory of her skin and the crimson of her mouth, the affect she had achieved was mysterious yet alluring.

_Hannibal should be pleased._

Majestically she rose from the cushioned settee then walked over to the full length mirror located on the opposite end of the room. With a meticulous eye, she appraised the reflection staring back at her.

No detail of her attire could be overlooked.

She had to appear ageless, timeless.

The black backless gown she wore hugged her slender figure in all the right places making her appear more voluptuous than she truly was. Her magnificent hair, swept up into a French roll, allowed her lovely neck to be exposed.

And from her earlobes dangled the only pieces of jewelry she wore this evening. A pair of cascading diamond earrings. These little sparkling treasures were most important because of their significance.

They had been bestowed upon her on her wedding day, a fitting gift from her new husband Robert. But more importantly the earbobs had once belonged to Hannibal's great-grandmother, the Grand Dutchess Sofia of Radvilos, a member of one of the many houses of Lithuanian nobility.

Only Murasaki knew the pride Hannibal felt because of his distinguished pedigree. Wearing the Lecter family heirlooms would be an appropriate tribute to his heritage. And it would symbolize an unspoken solidarity, a truce of some sort.

Hannibal would clearly understand that she meant him no harm.

lllll

Meanwhile, Inspector Pascal Popil, who was waiting patiently for Lady Murasaki in the main room of her suite, had ideas to the contrary.

The wary inspector could hardly believe his luck.

_Lecter, here in this very hotel! Imagine my surprise! Well he won't get away. Not this time! _

The Frenchman had suffered through two years of frustration, knowing that the most heinous killer he had ever come across had slipped through his fingers.

And while Popil had been left behind in France to sort out the blood trail that he was so sure led to the murderous doctor, the heartless bastard had been living a comfortable life in Maryland free of reproach for his numerous crimes.

Then there had been that dreadful inquest.

Imagine Popil's complete surprise, when he, of all people, had been asked to sit through an actual interrogation. He had been forced to endure the accusing glares of his superiors as he was bombarded with question after humiliating question.

"_Tell us Inspector Popil. Did you have prior knowledge of Lecter's whereabouts when you arrived at the docks?"_

"**_No."_**

"_Then how can you be so sure that it was Dr. Lecter that had set the fire? Did you see him do it? Did you?"_

"**_I didn't actually see… him commit the act, but I know he did!"_**

"_Really, how so?" _

"**_Because my gut tells me it was him. Don't you see? He had to create a diversion, a spectacle that would distract the police's attention elsewhere, so that he could escape." _**

"_And if he did escape, as you claim, where did he go?"_

"**_I don't know. But if you don't allow me to do my job, then the further Lecter will get. And if he leaves France altogether, then there will be no way of apprehending him!"_**

"_Apprehending him, on what grounds, inspector? So far your investigation has turned up nothing but circumstantial evidence and conjecture!_

_And besides, his aunt, Lady Murasaki has just given her official statement. In it she claims that the men that had kidnapped her were involved in the white slave trade._

_Vladis Grutas was the ring leader of this band of reprobates and had been using his ship as a base of operations. Additionally the evidence we've gathered and eyewitness testimony from some of the girls involved in the abductions supports this._

_Grutas and his associates have been abducting young women for months and selling them to the highest bidder up and down the Ivory Coast and to harems in the Middle East!_

_Poor Lady Murasaki was just another hapless victim, singled out by this Grutas for her exotic beauty and the fetching price he could get for her on the black market. The motivation for her abduction was greed, Inspector Popil and it had nothing to do with your ridiculous theories surrounding Hannibal Lecter!"_

"**_With all due respect, sirs, you are WRONG! Lecter was on that ship! He did kill Grutas and is responsible for the disappearance of his associates! All I ask for is more time to bring you the proof you require!"_**

"_That is enough, Popil, ENOUGH! As far as this inquest is concerned the matter is now closed. From here on out the case against Dr. Hannibal Lecter is dropped and if you want to keep your badge, inspector, then I advise you to do the same!_

_Consider yourself very lucky that you still have your job. _

_Oh, I had nothing to do with that, I can assure you. You have dear Lady Murasaki to thank for your continued employment. When she informed us that her nephew had actually left Paris weeks ago to attend school in America, AND, provided the admission papers to John Hopkins University as proof, I wanted to have your head on a silver platter! _

_Of course, the gracious lady could not live with herself if you were dismissed, so she eloquently spoke on your behalf." _

lllll

Yes, he had been lucky indeed. Had it not been for the intervention of the Japanese heiress, Popil's vocation, his life's work, would have come to an abrupt and humiliating end.

Naturally his curiosity had been piqued. He had been determined to find out the reason for her sudden change of heart. Why had she helped him hang on to his fledging career?

She had had the golden opportunity to destroy him and thus ensuring her beloved nephew's safety within her grasp. One damning word from her and Murasaki could have easily crushed him. Why then, did she decide to do nothing?

For weeks, Popil had grappled with these very same questions. He had spent endless moments absorbed in deep contemplation, until one day he had decided to confront the issue head on.

lllll

When he finally arrived at her flat he had found the place abuzz with activity. The door had been left wide open as several men dressed in grey coveralls were busily removing wooden crates from the apartment, then placing them into the moving van parked out in front of the building.

Popil had gingerly stepped aside to allow the men to pass, before crossing the threshold to Lady Murasaki's domain.

He quickly noticed that most of the elegant furnishings had already been taken away. And what precious few items remained, were sheltered with white drop cloths to prevent the accumulation of dust.

The walls had also been stripped bare. Without the priceless oil paintings, the flat seemed desolate and lifeless.

When he finally found her, she had been standing with her back to him on the small balcony that overlooked the busy street below.

To his amazement she had been dressed simply in a white silk blouse and a pair of black slacks. Her jet black hair was loose and fell straight down her back. And lastly, her tiny feet were pushed into a pair of low heeled pumps. This was hardly the apparel he had expected the daughter of a Japanese diplomat to sport.

She looked very casual and westernized.

As her delicate hands caressed the balcony railing, Murasaki had offered her greeting without turning around. "Hello Inspector Popil. I knew you would find your way here eventually."

Startled by the almost eerie way she had sensed his presence, the inspector took a deep breath before responding.

"My lady," he started out carefully. "I came to see you to ask about…"

"…Hannibal? Monsieur Popil don't you ever tire of this topic of conversation?"

Still she had not turned around to face him. Then there was a pause and followed by a long heavy sigh that had broken through the momentary silence.

"I believe the question you _should_ be asking of me is why I spoke on your behalf."

Pascal had swallowed hard. The lady had been right, of course.

That was the question that had kept him from sleeping and had dominated his every waking hour.

"Very well then, since you insist, why did you save me when you know that I will stop at nothing to go after Hannibal?"

Another pause, and then, after a few more agonizing seconds quiet Lady Murasaki had decided to spin around to finally face her uninvited guest.

"Because, my dear Pascal, with Hannibal gone, I am alone again. And the thought of living in this city without some comfort, without a companion is quite unbearable."

Popil's eyebrows had shot up in surprise. "What are you saying dear lady?"

"What I am saying, inspector is that I am in need of a friend, and I believe that you are too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ravenous **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Once again thank you to everyone that took the time to review!

**Chapter Five**

"A friend, dear lady? I'm afraid I don't quite follow…"

Pascal had been perplexed by Murasaki's unexpected proposal. He was almost certain that she had been toying with him. But when he saw the abject sorrow in her dark glittering eyes, Popil's heart had gone out to her.

"I am returning to Hiroshima, inspector. I leave in the morning."

Astonishingly her sudden proclamation had sharply pierced his heart.

_Why? There should be no reason for me to feel this way! I could care less where this woman goes! She did everything in her power to sabotage my investigation! And then had the audacity to perjure herself to the magistrate! I have half a mind to bring her up on charges! _

But in spite his attempts to reason with himself, Popil had been wracked with the familiar feelings of loss and pain at the idea of her departure.

"F-forgive me," he stammered. "But I don't understand what you are trying to say."

Murasaki sighed once more. "Monsieur Popil, I have many affairs in Japan that I have neglected for some time. I need to return to my homeland to attend to them. But once I have done so, I do not wish to remain there.

Hiroshima is now a necropolis, a sprawling graveyard. I would be surrounded by death, inspector. And the painful reminders of a family that no longer waits for me. I am not welcome in my own country, you see. I am seen as _gaijin, _a foreigner amongst my own people for having married outside of my race. And my position as a former diplomat's daughter can no longer protect me in post-war Japan."

Popil had cleared his throat then asked, "Yes, I understand all that, but what does that have to with me?"

"I intend to come back to France, my dear inspector and when I do, it would be nice to know that I have someone waiting for me. Someone that I can come home to."

Her last statement had caused the befuddled Popil's eyes to widen.

"Come home to?" he parroted.

"Pascal, you don't mind if I call you by your Christian name?" When he had nodded dumbly, she resumed. "No, of course you don't. We are kindred spirits, you and I. We both have no family to speak of. The cruelty of the war has seen to that, I'm afraid. And there is nothing left to fill the empty lonely hours of our lives expect for our mutual obsession for my nephew, Hannibal."

Rendered mute by Murasaki's astonishing revelations, he could only look upon her with a started expression on his face.

"Now that Hannibal has left us; there is nothing to look forward to. Hour after hour, day after day with no one to talk to, and no one to share our time with. I cannot continue to endure such a mundane existence! Can you?"

His response had been quick, but an honest one. "No, my lady. I don't think I can." His eyes had locked onto hers as an implicit alliance had begun to be forged between them.

The corners of her beautifully shaped mouth had curled up into a semblance of a smile. And when Pascal saw it his heart had melted.

And it was at that precise moment that he had known. Without a shadow of a doubt, Pascal Popil had fallen hopelessly in love with Lady Murasaki.

lllll

Presently, as he continued to wait for the woman that had become everything to him to emerge from her private chamber, his thoughts now drifted to the one man had caused her so much pain.

Lecter.

His malevolent presence, although in spirit, had been a constant reminder of why Popil's love for Lady Murasaki remained unrequited after all this time.

Pascal wanted nothing more than to love this woman completely, to bring her the happiness that she had long been denied. But the resoluteness of her feelings for Hannibal could not allow her to let go and move on.

As long as Lecter was alive then Lady Murasaki would never pursue true happiness.

Popil also knew that he could not aggressively pursue her. Courting her would be an affront to her honor and he respected the lady too much to risk offending her. So he resigned himself to be just her friend, her faithful companion and confidant.

The inspector smiled wryly to himself as he remembered how he had been the perfect gentlemanly escort, that when donning a tailor made tuxedo had been presentable enough to accompany her to certain social functions, or the occasional opera.

But never once had she invited him to share her bed. Oh no, that privilege belonged to Hannibal, and Hannibal alone.

_Ironic isn't it? I can hardly believe that Murasaki has been saving herself for that monster! Well he'll never have her, NEVER! Not as long as I still draw breath!_

Solemnly the inspector resolved to remain at her side and be her steadfast protector. But more importantly he secretly hoped that one day she would grow to love him as much he loved her.

However, now was not the time to lament over matters of the heart. Other issues had arisen that had taken extreme precedent and needed to be addressed with the utmost urgency.

But just then, Lady Murasaki made her entrance into the living room, and what an entrance it was.

She looked positively dazzling.

Respectfully, he rose from his seat to address her. "My lady, you are a vision."

Lowering her eyes demurely she spoke softly. "Thank you, Pascal."

Murasaki then elevated her gaze to look upon him. When she saw that he was actually wearing the elegant dinner jacket she had picked out for him, she was more than pleased.

Giving him a brilliant smile she asked, "Well, are you ready to go? You know that Hannibal doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The elation the inspector had felt was quickly diminished when he was abruptly reminded of where they would be dining this evening, and with whom.

lllll

Earlier in the day he had tried to persuade Lady Murasaki to listen to reason. However the lady could not be swayed from her decision to see her nephew again.

"Pascal, I don't want to hear another word on the subject! We _are_ going to dine with Hannibal tonight!" As Lady Murasaki spoke, her tone had been even and calm.

But Popil had known better.

The anger and stubborn determination in her dark eyes had spoken volumes.

And yet against his better judgment, the exasperated inspector had tried to rationalize with her.

"My lady, begging your pardon, but I must insist that we decline Lecter's invitation. Surely you can see that he is just manipulating us, playing another one of his sick games!"

But the lady had stood her ground. "My dear inspector, I am very capable of dealing with Hannibal! Stop trying to protect me from him!"

When appealing to her logic did not work, he tried another ploy to get her to see things his way.

"I could not bear seeing you become an unwitting pawn for _his_ perverse entertainment! I care about you too much to see you get hurt."

Touched by his genuine concern for her, Lady Murasaki approached the inspector. She then placed a cool pale hand on his warm cheek.

He in turn had lovingly covered her slim delicate fingers with his own, caressing them tenderly. And in her eyes he had seen the gratitude she felt for his continued loyalty and chivalry.

How he had wished there had been more in that gaze.

The lady, however had already made up her mind from the moment Hannibal had offered his most gracious summons to join him at his table.

She and Popil would dine with her nephew. And nothing that Pascal could say would influence her decision.

lllll

Courteously, Pascal Popil offered the crook of his arm which Lady Murasaki happily accepted.

Then off they went to feast on the banquet that had no doubt been meticulously prepared by the man that was currently residing in suite 727.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

lllll

When Hannibal heard the almost timid knock on his suite's door, he smiled. Glancing at his Swiss timepiece he was delighted by the promptness of his guests.

_8:00 o'clock on the dot, without a second to spare. _

With the elegant poise than had been bred into him by countless generations of blueblood aristocracy, Hannibal sauntered over to the door.

Then before another knock could fall upon the hardwood surface, he pulled the door open to allow his visitors to enter.

When his reddish purple eyes fell upon the exotic beauty that was Lady Murasaki, she simply took his breath away.

And when the glint of her diamond earrings caught his eye, he could not help but feel his heart swell with pride and sincere sentiment.

She still held him and the heritage she had married into in high regard. This pleased Hannibal to no end.

Appropriate respectability demanded that he take her hand so that he could press his moist lips upon it in a gesture of appreciation for her thoughtfulness.

When he had done so, Dr. Lecter gracefully stepped away to allow her entry into his suite.

As for Popil, Lecter would not reduce himself to shake the hand of the man that had been the cause of so much distress in his life.

Nonetheless, the nobleman would not be rude since it was not in him to be crass or tacky.

Hannibal was many things, but first and foremost he was a gentleman. So he only deemed it suitable that he bestow a stylish bow to his adversary as his ever watchful eyes bade him to cross the threshold, if he dared.

"_Welcome to my parlor" said the spider to the fly._

A sardonic smile etched itself onto Hannibal's full lips as that little axiom had suddenly popped into his head. It was a very appropriate adage indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Once again, thank you to all of my faithful readers. Your feedback has been most invaluable! But all of you stalkers out there that read and run and you know who you are… c'mon give a girl some love! Would it kill you to review?

**Chapter Six**

"Good evening inspector, I'm glad you could make it to this little soiree." Hannibal said graciously.

Having no desire whatsoever to feign amicability, the inspector replied rather gruffly. "Let's just get on with this _farce_, shall we Lecter?"

He then entered the room rather abruptly, pushing past Hannibal as he went.

The young doctor bristled at Popli's barefaced discourtesy. The man's rudeness was intolerable and made Hannibal's perfect white teeth gnash together with displeasure.

But when Lecter caught sight of his lovely aunt again, Popil's pitiful attempt to rattle him was soon forgotten.

Turning to face his uncle's widow, his maroon eyes hungrily took her all in. She was more beautiful than ever and he felt obliged to pay her a compliment of the highest order.

"I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, m'lady. But I must tell you that you look _ravishing_. Good enough to eat."

"Hannibal!" Lady Murasaki's wide-eyed outcry was laced with indignation. And for a moment, he was almost sorry that he had made such an implication.

But when he saw the outrage he had elicited reflected in the inspector's green eyes, Lecter could not help to give his enemy a sly wink, before he flashed him a most cynical smile.

However, he quickly offered his reassurances to his guests. "Of course that is just a figure of speech, m'lady. You and your companion have nothing to fear from me."

_We'll shall see about that, you son-of-a-bitch_, the inspector thought unkindly.

Discretely, Popil raised his hand to pat the front of his jacket. When he was confident that his service revolver still rested inside its holster, he expelled a little sigh of relief.

If things got out of hand then he would be ready to act.

The inspector did feel a twinge of guilt about veiling the truth from Lady Murasaki about his gun. He knew perfectly well how much she abhorred firearms altogether, but he felt it was a necessary precaution.

Hannibal's keen eye, however, had noticed the slight gesture. And it became very apparent that the imprudent little inspector was concealing a weapon of some sort.

This foolhardy act only managed to heighten Lecter's every sense, setting his teeth on edge. If Inspector Popil tried to use his pistol against him, then Hannibal was prepared to take _extreme_ measures to ensure the safety of his aunt and more importantly, his own.

But first things, first: there was still the sumptuous meal waiting to be consumed and savored. And he had worked so hard in its preparation.

_It would be a true shame to let it go to waste_.

So with a congenial bow, Dr. Hannibal Lecter invited his dinner companions to follow him into the dining area. He then offered his arm to Lady Murasaki and led her to the table, leaving a very incensed inspector in the dust.

Soon Popil had joined them. And as both men waited for the lady to be seated, the inspector angrily glared at Lecter with all the loathing he could muster.

The young doctor managed to grin, amused by Popil's feeble challenge.

_This is going to prove to be a most interesting night indeed_.

lllll

Much to Lady Murasaki's surprise, Hannibal had not only prepared every aspect of the meal, but he also insisted on serving it as well.

It was a rare treat for Lecter to share such a fine meal with his beloved lady, and he took great pleasure in doting on her whenever possible.

Murasaki was quite impressed on how her nephew enjoyed describing the ingredients that were combined to create the gourmet delights that now danced on her discriminating palate.

She also could not help but notice how handsome he had become. His dark suit fit his lean physique perfectly. And although she preferred his brown locks to fall loosely over his smooth forehead in a boyish manner, the slicked back style in which he had chosen to comb his hair suited him just as well.

They had started out with a deliciously rich asparagus bouillabaisse. Its creamy texture had been seasoned perfectly with just the right amount of salt, pepper and paprika that enhanced the soup rather than overpower it.

Next on the menu, had been a simple salad of fresh greens, particularly spinach and kale, topped by crumbled bleu cheese. Hannibal had been very mindful of his lady's apparent anemic state and wanted to ensure that she ingested foods rich in iron.

He delighted in watching Lady Murasaki's sensuous mouth carefully take tiny lady-like bites of her food. Her table manners, he noted, were impeccable, as were his own.

Too bad Hannibal could not say the same for Inspector Popil. It had been made very clear to the distinguished young man that the inspector was slightly out of his element.

Oh, he knew the difference between his water glass and a wine goblet, but it was painfully obvious to Hannibal that Popil was taking his cues on which fork to use from the gracious lady.

_Ah, yes, besting my rival in even the slightest of things is another small victory to be savored._

The wine that had been served during the meal was fruity, aromatic and complemented the variety of dishes served thus far.

When Popil made a comment on its unique flavor, Hannibal explained that it had been procured from one of the many wineries of the region, the _San Andres_ vineyard in Sonoma to be precise.

"Well it's quite good, I have to admit. That is, for a wine that is not French." The inspector said begrudgingly.

Hannibal only smiled at Pascal's abundant lack of knowledge of things that were not encompassed in his limited little world.

_Typical Frenchman, disguising his ignorance with arrogant snobbery_.

And while his mind was on the subject of pretentious little men, Dr. Lecter's thoughts drifted to one Alfred Napier.

He had tried to track down the concierge earlier in the day to assist him on obtaining the items he needed for this feast. But to Hannibal's great displeasure, the inconsiderate bastard chose to ignore his calls.

Instead, as Hannibal learned later, Napier had spent the better part of the afternoon being some whorish, bleached blonde movie star's lap dog. He had been at her beck and call all afternoon, from getting her favorite chocolates to walking her yappy little poodle named _Precious_. Napier had taken great pains in granting her every whim.

No doubt, the concierge was a big fan.

But it had not surprised Lecter in the least, considering that a man such as Napier would be so easily impressed by the artificial beauty manufactured by the Hollywood studio system.

It was almost embarrassing how he had disgraced himself over that woman. And all in the hopes that the starlet would reward the concierge with one of her infamously pouty lipped kisses.

Thank goodness that the well-mannered bellboy, Ramón Marquez had somehow gotten wind of the discourteous treatment Dr. Lecter had received and offered his services to him post haste.

Hannibal would have to remember to tip the young man handsomely for his invaluable assistance. As for Alfred Napier, Dr. Lecter would make certain that the neglectful hotel employee got just what he deserved.

lllll

After the first two dishes had been served and devoured, it was time to present the main course.

When Hannibal announced that it would be _Blanquette de Veau_, he quickly noticed that Popil and his aunt glanced at each other with slight trepidation.

After he had carefully set down both of their plates in front of them, Hannibal found it a bit disconcerting that neither Popil nor Murasaki wanted to be the first to sample the meat dish.

A disquieting hush had fallen over the occupants of suite 727. As seconds crept into minutes, no one spoke, and the food remained untouched.

Lady Murasaki smiled nervously then reached for her wine glass only to find it empty. Hannibal moved immediately to refill it.

"_Merci,_ Hannibal." She genially thanked him. But as she raised the glass to her lips, she noticed her nephew was looking at her with keen interest.

_He knows. God help me, he knows that I am afraid of what is on my plate_.

And still she said nothing, as the quiet of the room grew to a most uncomfortable state.

It was finally Popil that broke through the stifling silence. His every word was dripping with venom.

"So Lecter, tell me. Is this really veal, or one of the many bodies you just love to carve up?"

Hannibal, while terribly insulted by the inspector's effrontery, retorted unflinchingly. "I hate to disappoint you, my dear inspector. But I'm afraid that the cuts of meat I used are of the _bovine_ persuasion. You have my word as a gentleman."

Infuriated, Popil swiftly leapt to his feet. Angrily, he slammed his fists on the table, which sent some of the silverware flying through the air. Then he leaned forward to look at Hannibal squarely in the eye.

"Your word as a _gentleman_?" he mocked. The inspector at this point was seething with pent up rage. "You smug bastard! The only reason why I even entertained the notion of coming up here was for Lady Murasaki's sake! But I have had enough of your games Lecter!"

Dr. Lecter feigned innocence. "Why, my dear Inspector Popil, I'm afraid you have me at a loss."

"Don't play coy with me, Hannibal. We've known each other too long! I know _exactly_ what you are! Don't forget that!

You may think you are safe from me because I am out of my jurisdiction. But mark my words, you goddamned butcher! I will find a way to stop you! If it's the last thing I do, I will stop you!"

Next he reached into his dinner jacket and drew out his weapon from its hiding place. With a practiced hand, the inspector quickly cocked the firearm and aimed it, pointblank, at Hannibal's chest.

Lady Murasaki gasped when she saw the instrument of death. She could not believe that Pascal had deceived her about carrying that horrid thing around.

But she was also terrified for her friend. Only she knew what Hannibal's limits were, and poor Popil had long since crossed them.

Afraid of what her nephew could do to the inspector if he pushed him any further, she quickly rose from her chair and went to him. Placing a hand in between his broad shoulders, she calmly tried to coax him to leave with her.

"Pascal, listen to me. Please put down the gun. You've had too much to drink and you are not thinking straight."

Pascal only sneered at her words. She was only trying to protect this murderer again, as she had done before.

Hannibal had been unflappably calm during this episode. Not a hair out of place. Amused, he looked upon the inspector with blood-red eyes.

"I'd listen to the lady, if I were you, inspector. Think of how embarrassing it will be for you _this _time. Having to explain to your superiors why you shot an unarmed man in cold blood.

Not only would you be stripped of your badge, but I would hate to think of the horrible things that the inmates will do to you in prison. Those very same prisoners that _you_, the great Inspector Popil helped put behind bars."

Popil's arm was shaking now and the palm of hands felt sweaty. Clenching his teeth together he hissed, "Shut up, you _monster_! It is _you_ that belongs behind bars!"

"Pascal, please don't do this. You are better than this, a man of honor." Lady Murasaki pleaded with him, as she tried to bring the inspector back from the brink of insanity.

After a few tension-filled moments, Popil finally began to calm down.

_She is right, I am better than this, better than Lecter_! _I will bring him down, but it will on my terms, not his! I am not a killer. And I will not take a life for vengeance's sake. _

When she finally observed him slowly lowering his gun, the lady was flooded with relief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Honorable Mention:** Once again, my overwhelming gratitude goes out to all of my faithful readers, especially _Mishka_, _Bugsy_, _Kudva18_, _K182_, _skarletwithhak_, and last but certainly not least, _Emilia_. I thank you all from the bottom of my black little heart…

…and so does the evil cannibalistic and pimptastic doctor that lives in my head.

_Crafty_, _Red Pollard and Night Scorpio_...where have you been? The G.D. is getting angry, and you wouldn't like him when he's angry. Trust me on this.

**Chapter Seven**

"Pascal, come, let us retire for the evening." Lady Murasaki quietly beseeched her companion as she tried to pull him away from the table.

Ashamed for his deplorable behavior and for frightening the lady unnecessarily, Inspector Popil mutely nodded his consent. Shoving the gun back into his jacket, he then allowed the delicate-boned woman at his side to gently lead him away from the now ruined dinner, as his purported host, Dr. Hannibal Lecter looked at the couple with a reproachful glare.

They were almost to the door when it was Lady Murasaki that perceived the blood-lust in her nephew's eyes. Turning around to face him she wisely offered up an apology. "Hannibal, I'm so sorry…for all of this. There is still too much bad blood between you, and perhaps I am the cause of it."

Hannibal was indeed angry, but he was not about to lower himself to Popil's level to display it. Slowly, he rose from his chair and with unhurried footsteps he advanced towards his aunt.

When he was just a few feet from her he stopped dead in his tracks.

"M'lady, there is no need for _you_ to apologize. I do hope that we can pick up where we left off when circumstances are not so…complicated."

Popil was directly infuriated by Hannibal's insinuations.

_There is no way in heaven or hell that I will allow this fiend to get near her again!_

He opened his mouth to fling an off the cuff remark in Lecter's direction, but then thought better of it. He had already caused Lady Murasaki enough anguish over this precarious situation.

So instead, he opened the door and said quietly, "My lady I am ready to go if you are."

Murasaki, who had not taken her eyes off the man that she loved and hated in equal measure, gave the inspector her response.

"Very well Pascal, let us take our leave."

And as she turned to go, Hannibal's silky voice called out to her, halting the lady's departure.

"My lady, if I am not imposing, I would like to invite you to lunch tomorrow. Of course it would be out in public..."

Pausing for dramatic affect, Lecter cast a wicked glance at Popil before he continued. "…and without so many _distractions_."

Popil propelled by his anger, immediately stepped forward to wedge his body between Hannibal and his aunt.

"She will do _nothing_ of the kind, Lecter! You _really_ must be out of your mind if you actually think that I will allow this!" He seethed dangerously as flecks of spittle flew from his lips.

Then without thinking he made a rather clumsy grab for Murasaki's elbow. When he had latched on, Popil then tried to drag her out of Lecter's suite.

However, Lady Murasaki refused to be treated like some fragile little china doll that could not take of herself.

Promptly, she managed to wrench her arm out of Popil's grasp as a great anger coursed through her veins like liquid fire.

Turning her head sharply toward Pascal, her dark eyes flashed with a rage that neither man thought her capable of. And when she spoke, her voice was harsh, her words heated.

"How DARE you _manhandle_ me?! Who in the hell do you think you are? I'm not some _geisha_ that you can put your grubby paws on!"

Popil was devastated. Twice in one night he had not only managed to hurt Lady Murasaki's feelings, but he has made a complete ass of himself in the process.

"Lady Murasaki, I am truly sorry. I was only looking out for your best interests, please believe me." Inspector Popil's apology was heartfelt but she was too furious to care or notice.

"I am quite capable of making up my own damned mind about how and with whom I spend my time with, Pascal! I am way past the age of consent, and don't need a bloody chaperone! "

She then whirled around to look at Hannibal, who had been inaudibly studying his lady with awestruck curiosity.

"Hannibal." Murasaki said with firm conviction. "I gladly accept your lunch invitation. I will meet you in the hotel restaurant promptly at noon tomorrow."

Lecter smiled. In one fell swoop he had not only secured a luncheon date with his beloved lady, but he also managed to make his rival look like an absolute fool.

And he did not even have to get his hands dirty this time.

How wonderful.

"Noon tomorrow it is." Hannibal confirmed.

Then after bidding both of his guests a pleasant good night, he intently watched them leave his suite. First it had been Murasaki, with her head held high, shoulders thrown back. She had sauntered out the room with the regality of a queen.

Then poor Inspector Popil slowly trailed behind her licking his wounds. With his downcast eyes, and drooping shoulders, he was the epitome of defeat.

lllll

It was almost midnight and Alfred Napier was on the last lap of his rounds of the hotel. He enjoyed the quiet of the late hour, since it afforded him the opportunity to unwind from the day's activities.

Everyone that was employed at the Napa River Inn knew that it was customary for him to make a final inspection of every department's job roster before he went to bed.

From the chef's menu to the housekeeping schedule, the concierge left no stone unturned. Napier would bark orders at his discretion like a drill sergeant when he found something was amiss. And he was hated for it.

But he didn't give a good goddamn.

The owners of this fine establishment, the Vanderhal's, had entrusted him with a great responsibility and he would not let them down.

Of course taking such a hard line against some of the employees had won him no friends amongst them. But to Napier they were nothing more than _jiggaboos_ and _spics_ that should be treated with no more regard than a flea-bitten dog.

Hell, if it were up to him, he would line them all up, throw gasoline on them, light a match and watch them burn.

It's not like he hadn't done it before.

That's exactly what had landed him in that Kentucky prison in the first place.

He got 16 hard years in the Big House for throwing a couple of Molotov cocktails into a church during Sunday services.

Everyone had made such fuss about it afterward, the local press, the sheriff's office and that Negro loving judge. His miserable brother, Jasper had been practically a card carrying member of the Klan! It was his idea to begin with. Shoot, he was the one that had actually barred the door so none of those _tar-babies_ could get out.

All Napier did was start a little fire. So what if a couple of darkies got killed? The world was better off without them anyway.

But he was the one that caught running away from the scene of the crime. And he was the one that was arrested and eventually put on trial. Not that conniving coward, Jasper.

And to his great surprise of the three witnesses that had testified against Napier, Jasper's testimony was the most damning. The son-of-bitch even said that it had been all his idea and not Jasper's.

"Your honor, I even tried to stop my brother from burning down that church. But he had a crazed look in his eye that day, like he was possessed by the Devil himself!"

Napier had leapt to his feet to angrily refute his brother's lies. "You're full of horseshit, Jasper, you lyin' snake! You know you wanted to scare them coons 'cause it'd win you some points with those boys that wear them funny white sheets at night!"

But despite his protests, and even testifying on his own behalf, a jury of his peers had him found guilty as charged.

lllll

After he had served his time, Napier, whose real name was Abner Hicks, found it was very hard to obtain gainful employment due to his prison record. He was a convicted arsonist; a firebug and no one wanted hire someone like him.

And after months of not getting a measly break on the outside, Abner decided it was time for change.

He remembered when he was still in the joint, that a buddy of his had mentioned once that a man could easily assume the identity of another and begin to lead a new life by simply obtaining a dead kid's birth record.

"_Hell, all you have to is, roam around the local cemetery, until you find the gravesite of a child that was born the same exact year as you were. The trick is finding one that died before he had reached his first birthday. _

_You don't want one that's already got school or medical records. It only complicates matters. A paper trail is a messy thing, and raises too many questions. _

_Then you get yourself over to the hall of records, pay 'em 5 bucks and they hand you a birth certificate. It's a simple as that! And if you do it right, it'll give you a whole new lease on life. A clean slate, now wouldn't that be something?"_

Yep, it was something alright. When Abner had had enough of just scraping by, he had decided to take his friend's advice to heart.

After he had obtained the birth record of the late great Albert Napier, he was able to secure a driver's license and a social security card.

The real Napier had been a poor unfortunate child that had died about two minutes after his unwed mother did. She had suffered an embolism after the birth. The father had been unknown, so there were no relatives poking about that would contest the validity of who he claimed to be.

With his new found identity, Napier had made up his mind to leave Kentucky altogether and had set his sights on the Big Apple, New York City. It was there that he had carried out his plan of reinventing himself even further.

He had finally managed to get a job as a doorman in one of the finest hotels in town, the _Waldorf Astoria_. Only the crème de la crème stayed there.

And Alfred had vigilantly observed how the very wealthy clientele behaved.

He had watched their every move and listened to every word they uttered. At night when he had found himself alone in his Bronx apartment, he would spend hours in front of his cracked looking glass, mimicking their mannerisms, their gestures. He had even imitated their speech patterns and before long had perfected a sophisticated accent.

But, he still didn't look the part, so he spent every dime he had on fine clothing, and developed a grooming regimen to make his appearance flawless.

When his superiors noticed the changes he had made, Napier was soon promoted to the front desk as a clerk. And then, not long after that, he was then asked to be the concierge due to his excellent attention to detail and his ability to meet the guests' needs.

And all had been right in Napier's fabricated little world for a long time until one fateful day, as sure as you please, in walked the very same Kentucky judge that had convicted him years earlier. Napier was sure that the man had not recognized him. But he did not want to stick around and take any chances.

Panicked, he had resigned his position at the _Waldorf Astoria_ that very day, with a half-assed explanation to his superiors about "personal problems". He then emptied out his bank account, and hopped onboard the first westbound train out of town.

And he had never looked back.

lllll

But all that was in the past. Since his unanticipated arrival in California, Alfred Napier was able to quickly carve out a nice niche for himself.

And when he had applied for the position of concierge at the Napa River Inn, he had finally hit pay dirt. The position paid very well, and the Vanderhal's had been easily impressed when he had provided the _Waldorf_ as a reference. By the end of the interview the job had been his.

Now as he turned the corner to walk down the corridor that led to his room, he could not help but smile at his good fortune. Indeed, life could not have been better for Alfred Napier at that precise moment.

When he was at last standing outside his door, he shoved his hand into his pants pocket to retrieve his keys. Just then, he heard a strange noise emanating from the darkened end of the hallway. It had sounded like some sort of squeaking.

Napier strained his ear to discern the source of the sound, but after a few minutes, there was nothing but silence. Chalking it up to an overactive imagination, the concierge simply shrugged his shoulders and went about his business.

And then…

…there it was again, that noise.

Only this time it was louder and there was no mistaking it, the sound had definitely come from that ominous pitch black void at the end of the corridor.

"H-hello, is someone there?" Napier called out nervously.

The only response he received was that terrible squeaking sound.

_Squeak._

_Squeak._

_Squeak._

Whatever was making that horrible noise, it was steadily coming closer.

Napier by this time was in a full-blown panic. Desperately, he tried to fish the keys out of his pocket. But in his haste he only managed to drop them onto the carpeted floor below.

As he dropped to his knees to retrieve them, the great and terrible squeal had picked up momentum.

_Squeak._

_Squeak_.

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

And that it is when he finally saw it.

Barreling toward him like a freight train from Hell was a shiny metal room service cart.

Before he could completely scramble to his feet, the cart had forcefully collided into his mid-section, effectively pinning Napier to his very own door.

He struggled to push the metal cart away, thrashing about like a fish on a hook. But he immediately found an opposing force of a stranger's gloved hand shoving the edge of it further into his well-fed belly.

"What is going on here?" he asked breathlessly.

He received another hard shove to the abdomen as a reply.

Slightly angered, Napier dared to raise his terror-stricken eyes to look upon the face of his would-be assailant. When he saw who it actually was, Napier's eyes opened wide in terrified recognition.

"Oh my God!" he rasped throatily. "It's YOU!"

Then from the corner of his eye he saw a gleaming object coming toward him.

It was a surgeon's scalpel.

Napier tried to scream, but it was too late when he felt the bite of the blade slice cleanly across his throat, severing his vocal cords and his dying eyes saw the spray of crimson tinge the pristine white dress shirt of his attacker.


	8. Chapter 8

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Acknowledgments: **This grateful writer wishes to thank all of my wonderful readers for being so supportive of this story! I dedicate this next chapter to you!

**Chapter Eight**

The next day, Hannibal Lecter arrived early to the chic bistro-like eatery, _La Maison du Vin, _which was located just off the main lobby of the hotel.

He looked rather dapper in his cream cashmere turtleneck, camel colored riding jacket and chocolate brown tweed slacks with the perfectly pressed seams and cuffs. His Italian leather shoes matched the shade of Hannibal's trousers and were polished to a high shine.

Wishing to achieve a more approachable façade, he had also decided to wear his dark brown hair in the causal style that most pleased his aunt.

As he approached the _maître d'_, Dr. Lecter glanced at the elegant gold _Breguet_ chronometer that he wore on his wrist. It was now 11:30 am.

_Perfect, just enough time to make some special arrangements before Lady Murasaki's arrival._

Sensing someone's presence, the _maître d'_ quickly looked up from his reservations book to greet the distinguished looking gentleman with an affable smile.

"Good morning, sir. Have you made a reservation for this afternoon?" he pleasantly asked Dr. Lecter. His voice had a hint of a light French accent.

_But it isn't a flowery Parisian inflection. No, this is its vulgar cousin_.

Hannibal quickly deduced from the slightly nasally intonations that the head waiter was of French-Canadian descent. And more than likely he had migrated to the States from Quebec or Montreal early in life.

Hannibal returned his smile nonetheless, and then replied. "Why yes. You should have a noon reservation for Dr. Hannibal Lecter and guest."

The head waiter's eyes opened wide when he realized that he had been speaking to one of the hotel's most illustrious guests. He just never imagined the renowned physician would be so youthful in appearance.

"Dr. Lecter, of course! I am Henri, at your service."

Impressed with Henri's cordial manner, Hannibal nodded his acquiescence.

"Thank you Henri, you are most kind. As a matter of fact I _do_ require your assistance most _urgently_." Lecter's voice was seductively smooth as he spoke, which had quickly won over the attendant.

Slightly alarmed, the _maître d'_ lowered his voice a few decibels to ask the doctor discretely, "Forgive me for being so forward, but is everything alright, sir?"

Hannibal's lips curled up into a crooked little smirk, which deepened the dimple located high upon his left cheek. It was the only blemish on an otherwise perfect face. It was a gift from one of the watchdogs that had protected his Uncle Robert's French estate so many years ago.

"Everything is fine, Henri, no need to worry. It's just that my guest is a very special _lady_ and I want to ensure that the ambiance is…romantic."

Henri's fleshy lips spread into a conspiratorial grin as he nodded his head in understanding. "Say no more, Dr. Lecter. The staff of _La Maison du Vin_ is at your complete disposal!"

"Excellent!" Hannibal said as his maroon eyes danced with boyish mischief.

lllll

"Good afternoon, I am Lady Murasaki Shikibu-Lecter. I believe that I am expected."

Henri quickly glanced up from his appointment book to look upon the face of the most exquisite woman he had ever seen.

Her milky white skin appeared delicate and flawless, resembling the soft iridescence of a rare and beautiful pearl. Her almond shaped eyes were dark and piercing, reminding Henri of a moonless night. And her burgundy colored lips were plump and ripe, reminiscent of a tempting and luscious fruit. The _maître d'_ was convinced that even the most unquenchable of thirsts could be satisfied if a man were to partake of them.

And although her raven tresses were neatly tucked underneath her wide-brimmed hat, Henri was almost certain that if he were to run his fingers through it, her hair would be as soft as silk.

The poor _maître d' _was immediately smitten by the exotic charms of the Asian goddess that stood before him.

She smiled politely and waited for the rapt head waiter to show her to her table. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat. Henri immediately snapped out of his self-imposed trance and when he realized that he had been shamelessly gawking at her, Henri quickly apologized for his rudeness.

"Oh yes, Lady Murasaki. Welcome to _La Maison du Vin._ I am so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting. Dr. Lecter has already been seated. Please allow me to take you to him, right this way."

lllll

As she followed behind the _maître d'_ through the already crowded eating establishment, Lady Murasaki garnered the admiring stares of the male clientele, while the women looked upon her with casual interest.

With each table she passed, the more intensely uncomfortable she became. The familiar and unwelcome attention her exotic looks earned everywhere she traveled made for feel more like an object on display rather than a real person of flesh and blood.

It was always the same. Lady Murasaki would either be fawned over or enviously despised because of her striking features. No one would bother to look past her splendor to discover her great intelligence and keen insight in the world of politics.

Lady Murasaki was actually a very well read woman that enjoyed keeping abreast of current events. Additionally, she possessed an uncanny ability for linguistics which allowed her to speak fluently in several languages besides her own native Japanese. Exposed at an early age to the world of diplomacy, the lady could hold her own with any head of state. These abilities had made her a great asset and the perfect hostess of the many parties her father had thrown during his tenure of the Japanese Embassy in Paris.

It was at one of these social events that she had met her late husband, Count Robert Lecter of Lithuania. When she had first laid eyes on him, she had been conversing, in perfect Portuguese, with the Brazilian secretary of defense. As soon as she had seen the dashing man with the intense blue eyes and high Slavic cheekbones standing at the other end of the ballroom, Murasaki had stopped speaking in mid-sentence.

Even as a young girl, she had never entertained the notion of romance or love. She had been reared from the cradle to serve her nation and honor her family above all things.

Her entire life, up until that point, had been deeply entrenched in duty, honor and steep tradition. The Japanese firmly believe in saving face at all costs. However when she saw the handsome, yet displaced nobleman staring intently at her, Murasaki could not help the delicious little rush of excitement that had shot up her spine.

When she was finally introduced to the Count, Lady Murasaki had been taken by him. Suave, debonair and devastatingly handsome, Robert Lecter had managed to quickly sweep the diplomat's daughter off her feet.

And after that night, Count Lecter, also besotted by the Japanese heiress, had begun his relentless pursuit of her. Much to her father's distress, Murasaki had been showered with expensive gifts, each one more extravagant than the last. She had also received countless invitations for dinner, the opera, and galas.

All of which had been respectfully declined, at her father's insistence.

"You're young enough to be his daughter, Murasaki! The man ought to be ashamed of himself!" The exasperated ambassador had told his child.

But, the Count had been a proud and ruthless man used to getting what he wanted. And what he coveted most had been Lady Murasaki.

However, Count Lecter had also been a pragmatist. And he knew he could not successfully woo the lady unless he won over her strict father, the Japanese ambassador.

Subsequently Robert modified his romantic game plan and turned his focus onto Murasaki's father instead. Soon, the Count extended a friendly invitation to the ambassador.

When the diplomat had civilly turned him down, Robert had said slyly, "Well that's too bad, Ambassador Shikibu, I guess I'll have to enjoy the repose of the new Japanese bath house by myself. I bid a good day to you sir."

Then Robert had stayed on the other end of the telephone long enough to hear the cultural attaché say hurriedly, "No wait! I think _I_ would like to accompany you, Count Lecter."

When the nobleman had finally hung up the phone, he looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

llll

Robert Lecter had been a master at discovering his enemies' weaknesses and of exploiting them to his advantage. It was a trait that his nephew, Hannibal would later inherit and perfect.

And the ambassador's weakness had been his proclivity for women.

Although he was a married man, the attaché was well known for his numerous but discrete affairs. With his dutiful wife securely tucked away in their home in Hiroshima raising their younger children, the ambassador had been free to indulge in the sexual pleasures that a city like Paris had to offer.

But like most men of an Oriental background, although he had enjoyed charting new territory, he still longed for the enticements of his native land. European women had been too liberated, too free thinking for his tastes. For a man in his position, he needed someone submissive and that would enjoy catering to his every need.

When the Count had extended his invitation to the bath house, he jumped at the chance. Finally, he would be able to take pleasure in the manner that most suited him.

Sadly, for the ambassador, accepting Robert Lecter's summons had proven to be his undoing.

lllll

After witnessing Ambassador Shikibu perform acts of the most unpardonable debauchery on the willing ladies of the bath house, Count Lecter had finally decided to play his hand.

Days later, he had made the Japanese diplomat an offer he simply could not refuse. The photographs that had been taken of the ambassador's romp in the bath house by an employee Robert had bribed in exchange for Murasaki's hand in marriage.

Considering the circumstances, the diplomat had quickly agreed to the Count's terms. It had been a fair bargain indeed, Robert got his prize and the ambassador had managed to save face with the Japanese Empire and his family.

Of course Murasaki, at the time, had not been aware of the shadowy state of affairs that surrounded her wedding to the dashing Count. And had she known she probably would not have cared. She was 19 and madly in love with a handsome man who would stop at nothing to give her the world.

Early in their marriage, it had been like a fairytale. Robert had been her devoted Prince Charming, loving, caring and indulging her every whim. And the Count she soon discovered had been an ardent and attentive lover. Murasaki had never felt more beautiful or loved.

But as the years passed and she had failed in her wifely duty to produce an heir, the lady found herself emotionally abandoned by Robert. And he had stopped making love to her.

If there was never going to be a child to be gained from their union, then what was point of sharing a bed?

Eventually he had moved his things out to sleep in one of the many guest rooms. Hence the Count and his wife had begun to live the lives of cordial strangers. Oddly enough, neither spoke of the breakdown in their relationship. It was just the way it had been between them.

Robert still continued to provide for her and he was never rude, or outwardly cruel. But the message which was hiding in the icy blue depths of his eyes had been loud and clear.

He did not love her anymore.

The novelty of having a beautiful foreign wife had definitely worn off. Consequently, he had become bored and tired of the lady that had once been his obsession.

She had been discarded like every other possession he had acquired and owned.

Murasaki had suffered in silence and she never displayed the sorrow she deeply felt. Her face had been a mask of stoic sereneness whenever she encountered her husband. But, behind the closed doors of her room, she had shed tears of anguish.

And then one morning while sitting through another silent breakfast with Robert, she had read in the first edition newspaper that Japan had declared war on the United States. Murasaki had read the story with great interest and concern.

Shortly after that morning, she had read another newspaper which reported that the Imperial Forces had flown into U.S. airspace and bombed Pearl Harbor.

Lady Murasaki's heart sank. She knew that Japan had awoken a sleeping giant, and it would only be a matter of time before the Americans would soon retaliate. Desperately, the lady had tried to contact her father, who had since returned to his homeland a few years ago to rejoin his family. She had wanted to warn them of the impending dangers of remaining in Japan.

Sadly, her father never got the call, and a few hours later the most devastating tragedy had hit Hiroshima. When Murasaki learned of the atomic bombs that had killed thousands in her homeland, including her entire family, she had been inconsolable.

In the days that followed, Robert had been deeply touched by her sadness. He understood and empathized with his wife, since he had recently received word of the loss of his only brother and his family Lithuania.

To Murasaki's surprise her husband had begun to demonstrate kindness towards her again. Robert had even moved back into their room to offer his comfort and support during this time of great sorrow.

Reunited in their shared grief, the once estranged couple had helped each other to work through the pain. And before long the love between them had been rekindled.

And when little Hannibal had been found wandering around their estate, cold and hungry, her heart had filled with a secret joy. They would finally have a child they could love, they would be a family.

However it was a joy that had been short-lived when Robert, her husband, her love, was cruelly taken from her. She had no one left…

…except Hannibal.

The little mute boy that she had found in the snow had become the son, the child that she would devote her life to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Nine**

_Hannibal_.

The name of the one man that was synonymous with all that Lady Murasaki loved and feared.

After the death of her beloved Robert, Hannibal had been her only comfort. His quiet presence and his expressive eyes had communicated a longing, a hunger that mirrored her own.

Loss and grief had contributed to the overwhelming sense of isolation. And when Death had touched their lives once more, the lady and the mute orphan had taken solace in each other.

Like shipwrecked survivors after a tempestuous storm, Lady Murasaki and Hannibal had clung onto one another, desperately trying to banish the bitter solitude that the war had brought upon them.

Nonetheless, a tiny flame of hope had begun to flicker in her heart every time he looked at her. Hannibal's gaze was still haunted by the things he had witnessed in his young life, terrible things that no child should ever have to see. However, behind the pain there had been something else. An unspoken communication, a desperate plea.

_Please love me._

And the neediness in those violet eyes had touched her deeply.

Lady Murasaki's connection to the boy had been on a spiritual plane as well as an emotional one. It was a bond that had been forged from mutual respect and admiration. And despite their age difference, it was a relationship of equals. Hannibal had demonstrated this with his great reverence for Lady Murasaki's culture and traditions. He had never made her feel awkward or foreign. The boy had simply accepted what and who she was without question.

Acceptance had been the one thing that the lady had craved during her marriage but never received until a few months before Robert died. And a deep resentment had lingered in her heart because of it.

But to her great astonishment Hannibal, a _child_, had the ability to make her feel accepted, wanted, and needed. And for the first time in her life Murasaki felt that she mattered to someone. To Hannibal, she was not an asset or a trophy to be fought over and won.

He simply loved her. She could see it in his eyes.

So touched was she by his undeclared sentiment that very soon Murasaki had decided to become his mentor, his teacher in all things in life that mattered.

To Hannibal's credit, he undeniably proved to be an apt pupil. Like an empty vessel waiting to be filled, he was hungry for knowledge. He listened and absorbed everything she had taught him.

From her he learned to move with deadly grace, fight with honor, to revere his ancestors and above all to live a life of purpose and meaning.

She also had imparted onto him her love of art and literature. He had acquired his sense of style and sophistication from Murasaki as well. Hannibal emulated her need for perfection and beauty in all things. Whether it had been an arrangement of flowers, the preparation of a meal or the seemingly simply task of folding the paper just right to create delicate _origami_, Lady Murasaki had taught Hannibal the meaning of elegance, patience and a methodical attention to detail.

And as the boy grew into manhood, Murasaki had begun to see his strong resemblance to Robert. Hannibal had always possessed the same eyes of sapphire blue. But as he grew older, they deepened in color. The facial bone structure had been similar. And the color of his hair matched his uncle's as well, although Robert's had had streaks of grey in it.

Thinking back on it now, the lady admitted to herself that indeed, part of her had been attracted to Hannibal because of his eerie resemblance to his late uncle.

But with Hannibal it had been more than physical appeal. There was also a strange aura of raw animal magnetism, that even as a young pubescent boy, Lady Murasaki had found almost impossible to resist.

Now whenever Hannibal's gaze ensnared her, dangerous thoughts had crept into her mind. Forbidden desires had begun to take of hold of Murasaki, and she felt powerless to stop their onslaught.

Of course social propriety would never allow her to act on her feelings. After all, Hannibal had been a mere child when Robert passed on and she was his aunt by marriage.

To think of him as more than just her nephew had been wrong.

But when he had killed that disgusting butcher, Lady Murasaki's pull towards Hannibal had grown stronger. He had taken the life of another for _her_. Hannibal was now truly hers, their bond had been sealed in blood.

She should have been repulsed by his actions and shunned him altogether. But deep in her heart Murasaki knew that she was partly to blame.

After all, _she_ had given him the tools to commit the unspeakable. It was Murasaki that had armed Hannibal with self-reliance and shown him the ways to justify his actions through honorable vengeance.

Sorrowfully, Murasaki also knew that she could not abandon what she had wrought. It had been her doing, all of it.

The lady had sheltered, protected and loved him. But she had also helped mold Hannibal by stoking the hellfire of his blackened soul.

A monster had been unleashed upon an unsuspecting world.

And Lady Murasaki had no one to blame but herself.

lllll

Henri had led Lady Murasaki away from the busy congestion of restaurant. And she now found herself standing outside in the sunshine on a beautiful patio of rustic terracotta tile with verdant foliage and colorful fragrant flowers The soothing sounds of babbling brook could be heard off in the distance which immediately put her mind at ease. Lady Murasaki had always found the resonance of running water to be therapeutic.

Overlooking the lush rolling hills and dales of Napa Valley, the terrace's view was picturesque and absolutely breathtaking. It was nature in all of its splendor. And Lady Murasaki could think of no artist that could do justice to such a beautiful landscape.

The lady had been so captivated by the magnificence that surrounded her that she barely registered the moment when Henri stopped walking.

"Dr. Lecter, I have brought your guest to you as promised, sir." The _maître d'_ addressed the handsome young man seated at a table that was definitely set for two.

Hannibal slowly rose from the table to greet the enchanting woman that stood before him.

"Thank you, Henri. You have been more than gracious." Lecter said good-naturedly to the _maître d'_.

When Lady Murasaki heard Hannibal's hypnotic voice, she was immediately transfixed by it.

Hannibal in turn could not help staring at his captivating lady, who still enthralled him after all this time. She looked absolutely lovely this afternoon, in her burgundy dress that cinched her already tiny waist, and hugged her hips. The garment appeared to give her the perfect hourglass figure that was all the rage in the fashion magazines. Her high-heeled pumps were the same deep wine color of her dress.

The only disappointing aspect of her ensemble was the wide brimmed hat. Not that it was not fashionable, quite the contrary, it was very becoming on her. But it also obscured her eyes from him somewhat, rendering them indecipherable.

_Perhaps it is a strategic move on the lady's part. Still harboring secrets, I see? _

The head waiter bowed respectfully and then took his leave to grant the couple their privacy.

When Henri had disappeared from their sight, Hannibal walked around the table. His long powerful legs shortened the distance between them in a few quick strides.

Once again Lady Murasaki felt the warmth of his fingers surround hers and the moisture of his lips on the back of her hand.

"My lady, you do me a great honor with your presence."

Not letting go of her hand he led her to their table that was shaded underneath the palm fronds.

lllll

While most the guests of the Napa River Inn either dined the restaurant or were out taking in the sights of the region, the members housekeeping crew were busy tidying up their rooms.

The efficient chambermaids worked in teams of two's and each team had been assigned a different floor. On this particular day Lucille Brown and Betty Schuster had been paired up and were scheduled to take care of the rooms located on the seventh floor of the hotel.

Throughout the early afternoon both women had worked at speedy pace, trying to get their tasks finished before that slave driver Napier showed up for the white glove inspection.

"Betty, lemme ask you somethin'?" Lucille turned to face her co-worker as soon as she finished making her tenth bed of the day.

"Yeah, what is it?" Betty asked in return not bothering to look up from carpet she was currently vacuuming.

The suction machine made an awful racket and Lucille could barely hear herself over the noise. "Betty give it a rest will ya? Cut that thing off!"

Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, Betty conceded then turned off the vacuum cleaner.

"Whew, that's a relief! That damned contraption was getting on my last nerve!"

"Okay, Lucille, whatcha wanna ask me?" Betty inquired.

"Have you seen that tight-ass Napier this morning?"

Betty shook her head. "Nope, and I couldn't be happier!"

"But that's just it! That little creep should have showed his pasty face up here by now, don't you think?"

"Just what are you gettin' at Lucille?"

"Well I didn't see him at his desk today and he wasn't down in the staff's quarters barkin' orders like he was General McArthur! Somethin' is up, I can just feel it!"

Betty rolled her eyes with disgust. She loved Lucille to death, but she knew her friend was a chronic gossip with an overactive imagination.

Placing her hands on hips, Betty looked at her friend with sympathetic eyes. "Lucille, stop it! You know better than to go around makin' up stories about the boss!"

"He drinks you know, I've seen him take a sip or two from that little flask he carries. Who knows maybe he's gone a bender and he's passed out cold in his room!"

Betty had heard enough. "A flask?! Are you demented? I don't know were you get your ideas from, Lucille! Why don't you go and make yourself useful, huh? Go out into the hall and get some more of them little soaps from the supply closet?"

"Fine, don't believe me! But mark my words Napier's a big lush! That's why he reeks of that god awful aftershave; he's got to cover up the smell of the booze!"

Betty pointed her finger in the direction of the door. "Soaps…now Lucille!"

Crestfallen, Lucille grumpily left the suite while Betty stayed behind to finish her vacuuming. However as she bent over the machine to switch it on, she suddenly heard a blood curdling scream pierce through the air.

It was Lucille!

_Oh my God, the girl probably saw a rat or something_!

Throwing the vacuum down, Betty ran out into the hall as fast as her chubby little legs could carry her.

She immediately saw Lucille kneeling down in front of the open supply closet with her hands over face and sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire body shook in fear.

Betty approached her friend and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Lucille, honey what is it? Did you see a rat or something?"

All Lucille could do was to mumble incoherently in between her pitiful sobs. Her friend Betty watched as she lifted a shaky finger to point towards the direction of the open closet.

Betty reluctantly turned to see what had Lucille so spooked.

Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she encountered the horrific sight before her.

There, in the closet were the remains of Albert Napier. All four of his limbs had been severed from his body and stacked up neatly in a pile. His disembodied head rested on top of the appendages in a sick parody of the Jolly Roger. The torso had also been mutilated and from what Betty could tell, the man had been gutted like a fish to allow his bloody entrails to be displayed.

Whoever did this to him, took their time, even had a little fun at Napier's expense.

Whoever did this wasn't _human_!

And when Betty came to that horrific realization that is when she started to scream.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Ten**

"Hannibal, this all been so lovely. You've really outdone yourself." Lady Murasaki said admiringly.

Dr. Lecter looked across the table at his beautiful aunt and smiled. He was really pleased that his lady appreciated his efforts to make their luncheon a memorable experience.

"M'lady, you flatter me. I simply wanted to make up for last night's unfortunate…" Hannibal trailed off when he saw the slight tremor of Lady Murasaki's bottom lip.

Alarmed by her apparent anguish, Hannibal was prompted to ask, "My lady, have I said something to upset you? Have I offended you in any way?"

Murasaki waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense, Hannibal, you have done nothing of the sort. It's just that I am so overwhelmed by your attention to detail. The flowers, especially. Orchids, how sweet of you to remember."

"I remember _everything_ about you, my lady. And you probably remember that I am not a subtle man. As you know, I am direct, and I always like get to the heart of the matter, no matter the situation."

The lady immediately stiffened upon hearing Hannibal's declaration. And when she looked into his maroon eyes she saw the hint of a question that remained unspoken.

"Hannibal, is there something you wish to ask me?"

Dr. Lecter's smile deepened. The lady was as perceptive as always.

"Yes, there is. What exactly are you doing here? And why are you in the company of Inspector Popil?"

It was the lady's turn to smile, and when she did, her face became radiantly beautiful.

"Ah, those are _two_ questions, dear nephew."

Hannibal's grin remained intact as he stretched his hand across the table. Murasaki did the same and soon their fingers intertwined.

"My lady, when are you going to stop hiding behind the tenets of society? You know that their rules do not apply to people like us."

Murasaki withdrew her hand from Hannibal's grasp and dropped into her lap.

"That has always been your problem, Hannibal. You still think that you are above the law!" she hissed angrily.

Dr. Lecter delivered his retort as cool as a cucumber. "And _your_ problem my lady, is that you are evading the questions put to you."

Haughtily, Lady Murasaki rose from the table. "I don't have to stand for this! Nor do I have to be interrogated! As I told Pascal last night, I will tell you now! What I do is none of your business!"

Then as she turned to go, Hannibal quickly rose to his feet. As the lady tried to get away, he caught her by the upper arm.

"My lady, please don't go! Forgive my impudence! I allowed my jealously to speak for me!"

Slowly, she turned to face him. "Jealously?" she repeated in disbelief.

The young physician slightly nodded his head.

The lady's eyes darted towards the hand that was still encircled tightly around her arm then they traveled back up to his handsome face.

A lone tear escaped from her eye and rolled down a pale cheek. Hannibal swiftly but gently laid his hand upon the contour of her face before the next teardrop fell.

"I love you, Murasaki." His simple whispered declaration was like a warm summer breeze caressing her skin.

With moist doe-like eyes she continued to look upon him with mistrust.

"Hannibal, I don't know what to say…"

Lady Murasaki tremulous voice trailed off when she felt him release her arm only to have her slender waist captured within his embrace. As Hannibal drew his lady closer to him with one arm, he raised the other so that he could tilt her chin upwards with his long index finger.

Moistening his lips he lowered his head towards hers until their faces were just a few inches apart.

Looking deeply into her eyes Hannibal whispered huskily, "…you don't have to say anything at all."

Then before Lady Murasaki could resist, Hannibal eyes closed then slowly and proficiently took possession of her mouth. His lips, warm and yielding, began to glide against hers with sinful intention. Murasaki's eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord. She groaned as her small hands slid up the front of his cashmere sweater. Her fingers felt their way across his chest and she was delighted by the slight muscular definition of his slender body.

Hannibal could feel his passion intensify and tried to frantically to deepen the kiss. But Murasaki was still inhibited, afraid of the power of her own desire. She tried to best to pull away, but when Hannibal began to trace the outline of her mouth with the tip of his wet tongue, Murasaki moaned as she lost all train of thought.

Immediately she opened her mouth and granted him access. Hannibal gladly accepted the invitation and gently slid his tongue inside the sweetness of her oral cavity. Hannibal's mind was sent reeling from the moment their tongues clashed. His arms squeezed her body tighter, crushing her tiny frame closer to him. Murasaki sighed as she felt his chest graze her bosom. The contact made her nipples become taut and erect.

Oh, she longed to have his beautiful mouth suckling hungrily at her breast as she wrapped her legs around him. She wanted to give herself to Hannibal and feel every inch of his manhood slowly enter her body.

Lost in her lustful contemplations, her hands quickly slipped inside his riding jacket, then went past his waist to travel up his back.

As he felt her demonstrative caresses, Hannibal's male member became achingly hard inside the confines of his trousers. He wanted her desperately, to finally touch her body as he had always dreamt of doing. And he would not be satisfied until he had possessed his lady completely. He would thrust into her over and over again until their passions were spent.

Hannibal suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to touch her hair. To Murasaki's disappointment, it was Hannibal that broke the delectable union of their mouths. As he pulled away, he held his lady's wide-eyed stare captive within his own.

Then he reached up and carefully removed the hat that adorned the top of her head. Hannibal watched as her thick dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders. He smiled when he noticed a few stray strands had framed Murasaki's flushed face. And the sight of her swollen lips only made him want to kiss her again. Taking a few tendrils within his fingers he brought them up to his nose to inhale their unique fragrance.

Subsequently, he let go of her hair then lightly kissed her lips. Softly Hannibal said, "Murasaki, I love you. I never stopped loving you! You must believe me."

Lady Murasaki smiled tenderly at him and told him in return, "Hannibal, I know you love me. But I have done you a great disservice."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "_Disservice_, m'lady? How so?"

"I never told you that I loved you in return. At least not in the way you wanted me to, needed me to…"

Her thoughts immediately traveled back to that terrible night when she had seen the killer she helped create wreak havoc on that ship. And she remembered how she had left him to his own devices. She had abandoned him at the hour of his most terrible discovery. Hannibal had learned the truth of had happened to little Mischa. The truth had spewed forth from Grutas' foul mouth. But Murasaki had hardened her heart, convincing herself, then that she could not possibly love the monster that Hannibal had transformed into.

But could she love him _now_, in this place, in this time?

She already knew the answer.

"Hannibal, I love you... as a woman _should_ love a man, completely and unconditionally. And I am ready to be yours, now and always."

Dr. Lecter tried to contain his elation, but found that he was unable to. He gathered her up into his arms again and said jokingly, "Careful, Lady Murasaki, once you declare your love to a Lecter, there is no keeping us away. Are you sure this is what you want? What about Popil?"

"What about him? He is just a friend, a good friend. Nothing more! I love you, my silly boy. I always have! After I returned to France, Pascal became my _platonic_ companion. I was so terribly lonely after you left and so was he. Certainly even you can't begrudge me someone to keep me company. But know this: he has NEVER taken your place in my heart…or in my bed."

Hannibal smiled at his lady as he was overcome with emotion and gratitude. "You told me once that there was no part of me left that was capable of love. But you were wrong, my lady. For you see I've carried you in here." He then took her hand and placed it carefully on his chest. "Don't you see Murasaki? I thought my heart died with Mischa and that it would never beat again. But when from the moment I saw _you_, I knew that I could love again. _You_ are my heart, my darling Murasaki."

The lady took his face into hands and kissed Hannibal fiercely. Hannibal returned the kiss with equal fervor. When the lingering kiss finally ended, she said intensely, "I don't think I want to wait anymore. I want to make love to you, Hannibal. And I don't give a _damn_ what the world thinks! It's my turn now to be happy, and you are the happiness I seek!"

Hannibal hungry eyes mirrored her desire. There would be no stopping the consummation of their relationship. Murasaki would be his and he would devote his life to making her happy.

Smiling roguishly at his lady he said rather brazenly, "Well there is only thing left to ask my darling: your suite or mine?"

lllll

As they happily strolled back to the main lobby, hand in hand, Hannibal quickly noticed that the hotel seemed more active than usual. People appeared to rushing about with anxious expressions on their faces and he could hear the hushed tones of speculative conversation.

Then he saw a sudden flash of red and heard the incessant wailing sound of a police siren.

"Hannibal, what has happened?" Lady Murasaki asked worriedly.

He turned to face her with a grim expression on his face. "I don't know, my love." Hannibal's eyes then scanned the perimeter of the lobby until his eyes locked onto a familiar face in the crowd.

Ramon Marquez.

"Darling, stay here. I won't be but a moment."

"But Hannibal…"

Kissing the tip of her nose, he repeated his request. "Stay here, please. I'll be right back."

Then Hannibal Lecter made his way through the crowd as a shark swims through water when it is intent on killing its prey.

Very soon he stood in front of the distressed bellhop. "Mr. Marquez. Obviously the police have been called. Mind telling me what has happened?"

Ramon's eyes opened as wide as saucers. "You mean you don't know? About twenty minutes ago, two chambermaids found Mr. Napier in the supply closet on the seventh floor!"

Hannibal snorted in disgust. "No doubt, trying to have his way with one of them. Such an uncouth man!"

Ramon adamantly shook his head. "No, Dr. Lecter. You don't get it! They found him all right, but he was hacked up to pieces then put on display like he was for sale in a butcher's market!"

Hannibal arched one of his eyebrows then smiled. "Really? Do they know who did it?"

"Can't say for certain, sir. The police just got here, but I did hear that your friend, Mr. Popil may have been the one to call them. Hey, isn't he a cop from France?"

Hannibal ignored Ramon's last question, but he did manage to say, "Thank you, Mr. Marquez, you've proven, once again to be most helpful. I must return to my lady friend and make sure that she is not terribly affected by the news."

"Bye, Dr. Lecter. By the way, I never got to thank you properly for the tip you left for me the other day. You have no idea how much it means to me. You see, I'm working here this summer to raise enough money to continue medical school. I'm hoping to attend U.C.L.A. in fall."

"Mr. Marquez, I had no idea that you had an interest in medicine. If there is anything I can do for you…a letter of recommendation perhaps."

Ramon smiled. "No thanks Dr. Lecter, but I appreciate the offer. I want to be a self made man. To make it on my own merit."

Hannibal looked upon the young man with a greater understanding and appreciation. He will definitely have to do something for him before he left Napa Valley.

"Very well, I can respect that. It was good chatting with you, but I believe I've kept Lady Murasaki waiting long enough."

With a slight nod he bade the young man farewell, and then returned to Murasaki's side.

"So what were you able to find out, Hannibal? Do you know what's happened?"

Hannibal open his mouth to reply but thought better of it when his saw from the corner of his eye, two uniformed policemen enter the main lobby. At the very same moment, Inspector Pascal Popil was striding toward Hannibal and Murasaki with an expression of purposeful intent etched upon his face.

"Yes, Lecter, I think we _all_ have the right to know exactly what happened to the hotel's concierge!" Pascal Popil spoke loudly in an authoritative tone.

Confused, Lady Murasaki turned to Popil to ask, "Pascal, what is wrong with you? Why are you speaking to Hannibal this way?"

Rounding on her, Popil spat back, "The concierge was found _murdered_ this afternoon! Sliced to bits then stuffed into a closet which, coincidently, is on Hannibal's floor!"

Murasaki felt as if the room was spinning out of control and suddenly she had trouble breathing. Shaking her head in vehement denial she said, "No, it can't be true! Hannibal didn't do this!"

Just then the two officers made their approach after Pascal had waved them over.

"Inspector Popil?" said the first policeman, a burly looking officer with a neatly trimmed mustache.

"_Oui_," the French investigator affirmed in his native tongue.

"I'm Officer Dougherty and this is Officer Nichols" Dougherty quickly pointed to his partner who was a short thin man who wore wire rimmed glasses.

Officer Nichols took over for Dougherty. "We're from L.A.P.D. We would have gotten here sooner, but with traffic from Los Angeles, you know how it is." He then greeted Pascal with a firm handshake.

Dougherty then asked, "Well, I guess we're better have a look at the body, huh? And is that Dr. Lecter you mentioned to me on phone still around? I'd like to take him in for questioning."

Hannibal, boldly stepped forward, completely unafraid. His maroon eyes looked defiantly into the police officers' faces. "Gentleman you won't have to look very far. _I_ am Dr. Hannibal Lecter. And I am at your service."


	11. Chapter 11

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Eleven**

"Hannibal, NO!" Lady Murasaki cried. An agonizing pain stabbed at her heart as she watched her beloved step forward. She tried to reach for him but Inspector Popil quickly clamped his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back.

Murasaki managed to twist free from his unsolicited grasp then whirled around to face the inspector.

"Let me go! Don't you understand? He needs me!" she affirmed.

But when she saw the perverse triumphant gleam in Popil's green eyes, she was horrified and outraged.

_He's enjoying this! The bastard is actually gloating! _

She sneered at him with ferociousness of a hungry lioness. "What did you tell the police Pascal? What did you tell them about Hannibal?!"

The inspector chose not to dignify her inquires with an answer. He simply gave her an arrogant little smirk.

Disgusted, Lady Murasaki decided she could no longer endure to look at his smug expression. Urgently, she spun on her heel to face Hannibal again. He was still calmly speaking to the officers as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Hannibal…" His name was almost an inaudible utterance from Murasaki's lips, but he heard it just the same.

Dr. Lecter turned around briefly to look at his lady then patted her cheek with the back of his hand. "Don't worry, my darling." He reassured her. "It's just a formality, nothing to be concerned about. I'll be back before dinner, you'll see."

Lady Murasaki placed her hand over Hannibal's and gripped it tightly. Looking at him with grim determination she said firmly, "I'm going with you. And don't you _dare_ try to stop me!"

Hannibal smiled at her as his heart swelled with pride. His magnificent lady. So beautiful and brave. And she demonstrated her loyalty to him even in the face of great hardship.

_God how I love her! But I must keep her out of this, or Murasaki will undoubtedly be hurt. _

Releasing her hand, Hannibal quickly called upon all of his powers of persuasion. He would need them now if he was to convince his lady to remain where she was. He masterfully engaged her eyes with his captivating stare, ensuring that his maroon orbs were steady, unwavering.

When Hannibal was certain he had her undivided attention, he finally spoke to her, intentionally keeping his voice at an unvarying level of calm. It was a lulling monotone that soothed the senses and manipulated the will.

"My lady, you must _listen_ to me now. I want you to go upstairs and draw a nice hot bath. You've been under a great stress, and you need to… _relax._ Allow the water to take your tension away. The water _will_ help you, as it always has. Be good now, and go upstairs, my lady. Can you do that…for me?"

As if in a trance, Lady Murasaki nodded and said, "Yes, Hannibal I believe you are right. I will go now."

Dr. Lecter smiled. Her compliance had been immediate and complete. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek then whispered in her ear. "That's my girl. Now off you go."

When he was certain that she had boarded the elevator car, Hannibal then turned to his persecutors and flashed them a most charming smile. "Well gentlemen. I'm ready whenever you are."

lllll

When Officers Dougherty and Nichols had the initial viewing of Napier's gruesome remains, they immediately called headquarters to send in a homicide unit who in turn contacted the coroner's office.

From the moment the human bloodhounds arrived on the scene they went to work without delay. They canvassed the entire hotel, interviewed the two chambermaids and spoke to other potential witnesses. Afterward photographs were taken of the crime scene. Then it was dusted for fingerprints before it was marked off with bright yellow tape.

Subsequently, the mutilated cadaver was finally placed into a black body bag then transported to the medical examiner's office for further evaluation.

As for Dr. Lecter, he had been taken to police headquarters, which was located in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles. And despite Inspector's Popil's protests, he had not been restrained.

As he followed the policeman outside, Inspector Popil loudly lodged his objections. "That man needs to be handcuffed, Officer Dougherty! Dr. Lecter is highly dangerous and totally unpredictable!"

The police officer, highly annoyed by Frenchman's intrusive persistence, glared at the inspector with a sudden dislike. "Look, Mr. Popil…"

"That's _Inspector_ Popil, Officer Dougherty!" Popil quickly corrected.

"Uh, yeah, right. Well anyway, we appreciate you calling this in. The information you gave us on Lecter will be taken under advisement."

And just like that, Popil was dismissed.

Fuming, he snarled at the police officer. "_Advisement_? You are taking the invaluable insight I've given you on this case under ADVISEMENT?! No offense, officer, but you have _no _idea of who or what you are dealing with! I _know_ Lecter, I know how he thinks! And I have intimate knowledge of his _modus operandi_! I could help you!"

Officer Dougherty, by this time, reached the limits of his patience. He had tried to humor the Frenchman and was slightly fascinated with the outlandish tales of Lecter's alleged killing spree in Europe. But, Popil was now pushing it by trying to stick his nose in where it did not belong.

"Well no offense to you, _inspector_, but this is now a matter for the Los Angeles Police Department to handle. Now, kindly get the hell out of our way so that the _real _policemen can do their jobs!"

Inspector Popil watched with anger-filled eyes as the officer walked away from him to speak to other officials that had been assigned to the ongoing investigation.

As he stood alone seething with anger, Popil clenched his fists tightly.

_This isn't over! I will have my say and it will be ME that will finally bring Lecter to his knees!_

lllll

Dr. Hannibal Lecter had been placed in an interrogation room, under guard. He had been waiting patiently for the lead detective on the case to speak to him. During the car ride to police headquarters, Lecter had learned that the investigation was being headed up by Detective Frank Rizzo.

_Interesting…such an usual surname. Mr. Rizzo is definitely not from around here_.

As usual, the doctor's inferences had been correct.

lllll

Rizzo was a senior detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. But he wasn't a native of California. Due to his wife Bernice's chronic asthma, he was forced to transfer to the West Coast to escape the choking fumes of the Eastern Seaboard.

Doctor's orders. "_The weather will do her good, Frank. You'll see_."

Yeah right. 25 years later and he discovered that in spite of the promises of a warmer climate, sunshine and the alluring glare of Tinsel Town, Bernice's asthma had only worsened due to the wonderful cloud of smog that hovered above the entire Los Angeles Metropolitan Area.

Frank also found out that the so-called City of Angels was just as big a cesspool as back East. The only difference was that the victims here were much better looking.

Schooled on the mean streets of South Philadelphia as a youth, Rizzo had seen and heard it all. No crime had been too shocking for his desensitized eyes. Seasoned, uncompromising and with a low tolerance for bullshit, Frank Rizzo was well known on the streets of L.A. and in within the department for being as tough as nails.

There wasn't a case he hadn't solved, or suspect he couldn't break with his unique line of questioning.

With his grizzled appearance and hulking frame, he looked more like a mob enforcer than a veteran police detective. He had a bulbous nose and dark beady eyes that could just look at a perpetrator and know when they were lying.

Now as he walked down the hall towards Interrogation Room Three, he was suddenly halted by an anxious looking man wearing a brown suit. There was a disquieting urgency in his green eyes, which immediately put the experienced detective on the defensive.

"Pardon me sir, but are you Detective Rizzo?" the man inquired in French accent.

_Great, the guy's a fuckin' frog_! _Its bad enough our boys had to bail 'em out on D-Day, and didn't even get a 'thank you' for their trouble. Now I've got one of those ungrateful fuckers stinkin' up my department!_

"Yeah, who wants to know?" Rizzo fired back in a voice so guttural it made the other man's skin crawl.

Nonetheless, the foreigner pressed on. "I am Police Inspector Popil, detective. And I've come to offer you my assistance in the Napier murder investigation."

Rizzo was unimpressed by the man's audacity. He resumed his trek down the hall and to his surprise Popil followed.

_This asshole is really starting to piss me off_!

Abruptly, Rizzo stopped in mid-stride and rounded on the cheeky Frenchman. "Look, inspector, with all due respect, you are clearly out of your jurisdiction here. This is _my_ investigation and the L.A.P.D. doesn't need anyone's help! Especially from some frog-leg–eating-know-it-all like you!"

Popil, who was not completely up to speed on American colloquialism, wasn't sure if he should laugh or be insulted.

"I beg your pardon, detective but I don't understand what you mean."

"Look here _frenchie_, Dougherty's already told me all about you and how you're tryin' to muscle in on the case. Now you may be hot shit where you come from, but here you're just a tourist. If you go anywhere near this investigation and I get wind of it; I'll have you brought up on charges. Do you understand _that_?"

Popil pressed his lips together as he glared at his American counterpart. Then he said evenly, "Yes, I _understand_ perfectly."

Rizzo cracked a smile at last. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a suspect to question."

Once again, Inspector Pascal Popil was cast aside, as if what he had to say was of no consequence.

_Very well, if this horse's ass thinks he can get Lecter to talk, good luck to him! I have my own methods of finding out what I want know. And when I do, Dr. Hannibal Lecter will finally be brought to justice!_

lllll

As Detective Frank Rizzo entered the interrogation he looked over at the suspect seated at the table. Usually most perps had nearly pissed in their pants by time they saw him walk in. Frank was all business, and the creeps he had dealt with had known it too. He never allowed anyone try to bullshit their way out of the mess they had gotten themselves into.

Rizzo had earned a well-deserved reputation for being able to read a suspect's body language. He could size them up and know what they were all about before he asked his first question.

_But not this one…this guy is one cool customer._

And as he continued to try to hone in on the well dressed man that sat before him, for the first time in his long career, Detective Rizzo actually felt actually intimidated.

And he didn't like it. Not one little bit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twelve**

"Detective Rizzo, I presume?" Dr. Hannibal Lecter looked up at the man that just entered the room with a pleasant smile.

The aforementioned crime investigator was slightly jarred to hear his name being vocalized by the very man he was about to interrogate.

_Look at him, just sittin' there staring at me like I'm some idiot! Smiling that creepy smile of his, trying to see what makes me tick. What I wouldn't give to knock that smirk right off his face! _

Still, he didn't want the suspect to know how disturbed he was by his overconfident comportment and chilly sophistication.

Resorting to his tried and true interrogation technique, Rizzo decided to play hardball right from the start. "Listen here, _pal_. You're in no position to 'presume' anything. What you will do is wipe that fuckin' smirk off your face and answer my questions. If you do that, then you and I will get along just fine."

Just then there was a knock at the door.

Not taking his eyes off his suspect, the detective said brusquely, "Yeah, come in."

Afterward a uniformed policeman meandered into the room. Hannibal immediately became aware of the plain manila folder in his right hand. Detective Rizzo meanwhile didn't bother to look at the officer as he held out his hand to retrieve the file.

Once the folder was in his grasp, the crusty detective dismissed the young officer with a quick nod and a grunt. Next, Rizzo placed the dossier on the hardwood table, flipped it open and began to read its contents aloud.

"Well, well, well. Quite a colorful history we have here Dr. Lecter. Hmm, according to the French police file we dug up on you, says here you were once arrested on suspicion of murder. Apparently, when Paul Momund, the local butcher asked about your aunt's –how shall I put this delicately - _nether regions._ Curiously enough he was found with his head hacked off.

But then by some divine intervention, the murder charges were dropped. Seems this asshole Momund made some enemies during the war and they might have been the ones to take him out.

How convenient for you.

The file also states that you might have been involved in killing of Enrikas Dortlich. Now, that was some nasty business; with his cheeks all chewed up like that. But just because his remains were _actually_ found on what used to be your family's land in Lithuania, doesn't mean you had anything to with his death either, right?"

Hannibal's face remained impassive as he listened to the recounting of his past deeds. The wicked glint in his eye indicated that he was slightly amused.

_The detective has such a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he? Raising and lowering his voice, or pausing at just the precise moment for theatrical effect. Such flair and bravado, he is very entertaining to watch. _

Annoyed at Hannibal's lack of concern, the beefy law enforcement investigator leaned over the table to look at his suspect squarely in the eye.

"If any of this is ringin' a bell, you just say so, okay?"

Dr. Lecter returned the gaze unflinchingly. "Of course Detective, you'll be the first to know. Do you mind if I smoke?"

Rizzo thought about his request for a moment, before he grumbled his reply. "Yeah, go ahead. Knock yourself out."

The detective watched as the suspect carefully reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a golden lighter and cigarette case with the initials "H.L." engraved onto the face of it. He then opened the case and removed one _Gitanes Brunes_ cigarette.

Rizzo quickly recognized the French brand of cigarettes. They were the same ones his son Johnny brought back for him when he came home from the war.

Hannibal perceived the flash of recollection in Frank's black eyes. Holding out the open case in front of him, Dr. Lecter politely asked, "Would you like one, Detective?"

"No thanks, I _don't_ smoke." Rizzo harshly declined.

Arching an eyebrow, the learned physician smiled. "Not anymore."

Detective Rizzo's jaw dropped at the doctor's eerily correct deduction.

_How in the fuck does he know I used to smoke_?

"I apologized if I've alarmed you, Detective. But in my line of work, you learn to look for the minutest details in order to diagnose a patient's condition correctly.

I couldn't help noticing the yellowing of the skin in between the index and middle fingers on your left hand. It is a strong indicator that the discoloration is due to a prolonged exposure to the nicotine contained in tobacco products. But, if you've been able to curb your addiction to cigarettes, then you have my sincerest congratulations.

I'm almost ashamed to admit that I lack _your_ strength of will to quit my own nasty habit."

Rizzo was floored. He was absolutely stunned at the way the man before him was handling these proceedings. Lecter's face was a blank slate, totally unreadable. There had been no reaction from him whatsoever, not a grimace, a cringe, _nothing_.

_The guy is like a block of ice_.

Then before the investigator could ask the next question, Hannibal asked one of his own. "Tell me Detective Rizzo. Did Inspector Popil give you that file, or did he just jot down a few misconstrued half-truths on a piece of paper? Highlighting the fact that the victims were somehow personally connected to me, no doubt?"

When Rizzo failed to respond, Hannibal already knew the answer to his questions. Placing the long thin cigarette between his lips, he then lit the tip then took a nice long drag allowing the smoke to fill his lungs.

As he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, Dr. Lecter said smoothly, "That isn't the _real_ file from the French Police, is it? How could it be? There's no way you could have possibly retrieved it so fast. No, my guess is that Popil offered this information to you in the hopes of assisting somehow in the investigation.

But you turned him down, didn't you?

Hoping to take the credit for Popil's work?

How very shrewd of you, Detective Rizzo.

However what the inspector might have failed to mention are two very important facts:

One – he was never able to make his case against me due to the overwhelming lack of evidence. He was even brought before an official inquest and almost lost his badge for making outlandish accusations against such an upstanding citizen such as myself.

And two – Inspector Popil has a personal vendetta."

"A personal vendetta?" The detective at this point felt deflated, the wind in his sails had definitely died down. The more this Lecter talked the worse Rizzo felt.

"You wanna elaborate Dr. Lecter, or are you going to keep me guessing?"

"Very well, Detective I shall enlighten you. Inspector Popil has been obsessed with making me go to prison so that it will clear the path for him."

Rizzo was getting more and more confused by the second. This guy spoke in riddles, and it was driving the detective crazy.

"Whadda ya mean by 'clear the path'?"

Lecter smiled. The detective was truly a simpleton.

"You see, Detective, Popil and I are rivals of sorts. We both are vying for the affections of my late uncle's widow, Lady Murasaki Shikibu. Popil has been desperately in love with her for years. However she has never returned his feelings."

Detective Rizzo didn't like where this was going, but he pressed on anyway. "And why didn't she?"

"Because of the sentiment she still harbors for me. To put it plainly, Lady Murasaki and I are in love. And the poor inspector is insane with jealousy. He would stop at nothing to have me eliminated so that he can have her all to himself."

It was all starting to make sense to the detective. "So you're saying that this inspector would do anything to get you out of the way…even try to frame you for murder."

_Hallelujah, I think he's finally got it_!

Grinning from ear to ear, Hannibal purred his response, "Precisely."

lllll

Lady Murasaki had just finished her bath. After soaking in the claw foot tub for nearly an hour her body felt completely relaxed. She had already patted herself dry with soft fluffy towel.

Then before shrugging into her white satin _kimono_, Murasaki reached for her moisturizer and began applying it to her skin. The cream was naturally scented with the essence of orange blossoms. Every time she used it, the moisturizer made her skin seem radiant and left it soft to the touch.

Afterwards, she ran a balsam wood comb through her long black hair managing to untangle it.

Then just as she was slipping on her robe, she heard a knock on the suite's door. Murasaki's heart began to race with anticipation.

_It must be Hannibal_!

She finished tying off her _kimono_ around her waist with a loose knot then proceeded to saunter towards the door with jubilant expectation. When she finally reached it, Murasaki's hand practically trembled as she turned the handle.

Happily she threw the door open and was ready to leap into her beloved's arms when the very unwelcome sight of Inspector Pascal Popil standing in the doorway abruptly halted Murasaki actions.

Promptly, she became rigid as her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What do you want, Pascal?" Lady Murasaki said bitterly.

The inspector quickly tried to gain entry into her suite, but the lady blocked his path with her body.

Teeming with rage, the Japanese heiress hissed like a deadly serpent. "I will only ask you one more time! _What do you want_?"

The inspector managed a crooked smile then replied, "I only want to talk. I promise to be brief."

After a moment's hesitation, the lady eventually relented, granting Popil entry into her suite. She watched him slowly swagger into the living room as if he were the master of his domain. After closing the door behind her, she cinched the sash on her kimono, ensuring the garment did not reveal more than it needed to.

Murasaki soon joined the inspector in the living area and invited him to take a seat.

"No, thank you. I prefer to stand." Popil said tersely.

The lady didn't bother to mask her displeasure. "Very well, then get on with it. Say what you came here to say, and then be gone. It is late and I am very tired."

Looking directly at her Pascal Popil did not mince words. "Are you _fucking _him?"

Her eyes flew open wide with incredulous surprise. "W-what did you say?"

Sneering contemptuously at her, Popil repeated his vile question. "You heard me. Are you FUCKING Hannibal?"

Enraged by his lack of respect and the vulgarity of his language, Lady Murasaki swiftly responded to it with a vicious backhanded slap to the right side of Popil's face.

The blow had been so violent that is actually caused Pascal to bite the inside of his cheek, drawing blood in the process. When the tangy coppery taste flooded the inside of his mouth, Inspector Popil savored it.

Reckless madness rapidly seeped into his mind and heart as Pascal allowed jealous rage to dictate what his next course of action would be. At long last, the frustrations and rampant lust, that he's held in check, now pushed him onward, forcing him to clutch at the lady's forearms. Murasaki winced in pain as she felt herself being pulled forward by the very man she once considered her dear friend.

A gasp escaped her lips when she was suddenly horrified by his ghastly appearance. His face had taken on a sickly sheen, as his nostrils flared and his mouth twisted into a perverse smile.

Murasaki was now certain she was looking into the face of a madman.

When he had finally gathered her into his arms, he crushed her small frame against his body, anchoring her to him.

Now there would be no escape.

Next he brought one of his hands up and started to stroke the length of her hair as Murasaki heard him whisper words of feverish desire.

"What can that _boy_ do for you that I can't?! I have loved you for so long, Murasaki! I've cared for you, seen to your every need. And yet you've kept me at arm's length all this time waiting for you to notice me!"

Lady Murasaki struggled to free herself from his powerful grasp, but Popil was stronger than she. As he continued to grip her tightly, Popil began to grind his pelvic region into hers. The moment his rock hard erection grazed her thigh, there was no mistaking his intentions.

Murasaki began to panic. "Please Pascal." She begged. "You don't want to do this! You're a _good_ man. Please stop!"

Her words only managed to anger him further. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he gave it a good hard tug forcing her to look up at him.

"It seems that you have a penchant for _bad boys,_ my lady. _Good_ men do not hold your interest. Well if it's a bad boy you want, then here I am! I'm tired of playing it safe with you, of being the perfect gentleman and getting nothing in return!

Hannibal _kills_ and _maims_ without a thought and you spread your creamy white thighs for him the first chance you get!

Well now you will spread them for ME!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Special Notation: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! Your kind words, continued support and encourage have kept this story going!

**Chapter Thirteen**

Lady Murasaki tried to scream for help, but Inspector Popil immediately clamped a large calloused hand over her mouth to silence her.

As she thrashed to and fro in his arms, he began to push his intended victim towards one of the couches. Next he cruelly flung Murasaki down onto the cushions. Then he quickly pinned her body onto the couch with his own. She could feel the oxygen escape her lungs as she was crushed by full weight of the man on top of her. As he hungrily gazed upon her, Murasaki could see that Popil's eyes burned with the flames lust.

With his hand still covering her mouth he inched his face closer to hers, until Murasaki could feel his hot breath on her skin.

"You think you're too good for me, don't you? And yet you'd rather give yourself to a murderer, than to me! You're pathetic, you know that? First you marry an old man, and then you fuck a boy young enough to be your son! Well I'm going to show you what it's like to be with someone your own age!" Pascal spat out.

Fearing the worse, Murasaki knew she had to find a way to fight back, or all would be lost. Drawing back the lips of her mouth, she exposed her pearly white teeth, and subsequently sunk them deeply into the fleshly part of his hand.

Instantaneously, the inspector yowled with pain as he pulled his hand back to tend to it. That gave Murasaki a brief window of opportunity to push him off of her. She quickly leapt off the couch, but as she tried to make her escape she felt Popil's fingers sink into the length of her hair. He yanked at her tresses so hard; the lady felt her scalp burn.

As he pulled her back to him, Lady Murasaki felt his other hand wrap around her throat. She could immediately see that it was the very hand she had bitten. It was now bleeding profusely as droplets of crimson soiled her _kimono_.

"You BITCH!" Popil snarled in her ear. "I was going to be nice with you, but I see you like things rough!"

With his body positioned behind her, he gripped her by the throat tightly to keep her from screaming as he forced her to her knees.

There was a coffee table in front her, and the lady was sent reeling toward it. It was all she could do not crash into edge of the glass-topped table. She soon felt Popil kneeling behind her, with his hand still wrapped around her neck. His breathing was hard and erratic as he fumbled with the buckle of his belt to try to remove his pants.

Once he had unfastened the front of his trousers, he slid them and his boxers down his thighs. His taut buttocks and throbbing erect penis were now exposed. Anxious to claim his victim, he shoved her toward the coffee table once more. The lady had no choice but to lay the upper half of her body onto the smooth surface. As she turned her head sideways, her long black hair fanned out on the glass.

Next she felt the inspector turned would-be rapist push up the backside of her robe then heard him grunt with satisfaction when her propped up ass was revealed to his eyes. Impulsively, Popil placed his hand on her posterior and roughly caressed each buttock.

With a trembling voice, Pascal Popil exclaimed, "My lady, your _derrière_ is so soft, so milky white! I'm going to fuck you until you come to your senses and forget all about that boy!"

Murasaki's eyes filled with tears of rage and humiliation as her mind screamed with the anguish of every woman that had ever been forced to endure such a reprehensible act.

_No, no, no! Oh God, a thousand times no_!

Desperately, Lady Murasaki began to pray to her ancestors to rescue her now.

_Please, I beg of you. Do not abandon your daughter in this darkest hour. Help me; show me the way to get out of this!_

Then out of the corner of her eye she saw it. Gleaming brightly on the far end of the table was the forgotten silver letter opener she had used earlier that day to open her correspondence.

Once again, her ancestors had intervened. Her prayers had been answered.

Cunningly, she waited until the vile man behind her let go of her throat so that he could grip either side of her hips. And just as he prepared himself to thrust into her body, Murasaki quickly reached for the letter opener.

Murasaki managed to twist her body around just enough so that she could plunge the full length of the instrument into Popil's torso. Then with all the strength she could muster, she buried the letter opener to the hilt, just underneath his right collar bone. Murasaki watched in triumph as blood gushed from the wound she had just inflicted, staining his clothes in the process.

Whimpering pathetically, Popil fell backward gripping the handle of the letter opener in an attempt to pull it out of his flesh. Lady Murasaki wasted no time and in a flash she managed to scramble to her feet. She raced toward the door, flung it open and then began to run toward the elevator.

Just then she heard Popil's guttural cry. "MURASAKI, I'm going to get you, you miserable whore, if it's the last thing I do!"

She looked down the hall and gasped when she saw the injured man lumbering towards her.

Frantically she began to push the elevator button, willing it to come faster. But the car was still inching its way from the second floor and she was on the fifth.

_Oh God, please hurry_! She prayed.

Popil meanwhile, bleeding copiously all over his shirt, did not allow his injury to hinder him in reaching his objective. He continued to move forward steadily towards Murasaki, breathing heavily as he went.

The lady cringed in terror as she saw Popil draw closer and closer to her. And just when he was just centimeters away, the elevator car arrived.

The doors could not open fast enough for Murasaki, but once they had, she dove in and then slammed the palm of her hand on the "Door Close" button before Popil could follow her inside.

Thankfully, the doors closed before Inspector Popil could gain entry.

But she could still hear him cry out in frustration as his fists banged on the metal door.

"Murasaki, you're dead! Do you hear me, you wretched bitch, you're DEAD!"

Her body quivered with fear, as Murasaki brought her fingers up to depress the button for the lobby. After she had done so, she finally allowed her tears of misery to fall from her eyes and trail down her cheeks.

lllll

"Thank you driving me back to the hotel, Detective. But there was really no need. I could have hired a taxi." Dr. Lecter said.

Detective Frank Rizzo, glanced over at his passenger. "That's okay Dr. Lecter. It's the least L.A. Police Department can do after all the trouble we've put you through. Besides, I'd like to have a chat with Inspector Popil. After what you've told me, sounds like the guy's got a real hard on for you."

Hannibal was slightly perturbed by the detective's crude way of expressing himself, but he said nothing. His only concern now was to return to the waiting arms of his lady.

As the car pulled up the circular driveway of the main hotel entrance, Hannibal asked the detective to drop him off first before Rizzo procured a parking space.

"Okay, Doc, I'll see you inside." He waited for Hannibal to exit the automobile, and when the car door was closed, Rizzo drove out of sight.

Hannibal scoffed at having his hard earned title abbreviated like some fraternity nickname. He will have to remind the police detective about his manners…later.

Now all he wanted was a long hot shower, a snifter of Armagnac Napoleon brandy to warm his body. And lastly to glide into a comfortable satiny bed with his lady.

As the handsome young man strolled into the hotel, he was greeted immediately by the night manager, Mr. Brighton. His smile was uneasy as he nodded at the youthful physician. He had already been made aware of the day's occurrences the moment he started his shift.

"Good evening, Dr. Lecter."

"Good evening, Mr. Brighton. Are there any messages for me?" Hannibal asked with a tired smile.

"No sir, there are no…" the night manager was suddenly interrupted when the lobby elevator opened and a frantic woman spilled out of it. She appeared wild-eyed and her face was tear-streaked. Wearing nothing but a blood soaked robe, her long black hair trailed behind her as she swiftly ran towards the front desk.

When she caught Hannibal's attention, his maroon eyes widened with disbelief.

"Murasaki?! Oh my God!" he exclaimed.

"Hannibal!" She cried with relief. And when he opened his arms to her, she flew into them as fast as she could. She began to sob hysterically into his shoulder as he held her to him.

"Oh, Hannibal, it was horrible! Pascal has gone mad, he tried to… he tried to…oh I can't even say it!"

Lecter kissed the top of her head and held Murasaki tighter. "Hush, my love. It's all over, I'm here and _nothing_ will harm you. I promise!"

Just then Detective Rizzo entered the hotel and when he saw the frightening condition that Lady Murasaki was in he immediately ran over to the couple to offer his assistance.

"Jesus H. Christ! What's happened?"

Hannibal glared at Rizzo with his lethal maroon eyes. "Apparently, the lady was assaulted by Inspector Popil."

The detective looked down at the woman that was shaking like a leaf in Dr. Lecter's arms.

_This must be the dame that the Doc and Popil are fighting over. I can see why, she's a looker._

Rizzo forcibly cleared his mind. He needed to concentrate on being a cop right now so that he could apprehend the renegade inspector before he could strike again.

"Excuse me, ma'am. But could you tell me _exactly_ what happened?"

Murasaki bravely left the sanctuary of Hannibal's arms to face the detective.

"Inspector Popil…tried to _rape_ me this evening. I managed to escape after I stabbed a letter opener into his shoulder. He chased after me but I was able to climb into the elevator before he could follow."

Rizzo quickly shoved his hand into his jacket to reach for his service revolver. After he drew out his gun, he asked one more question.

"What floor was he on when you left him?"

Murasaki looked down at the gun then lifted her eyes to look at the detective. "He is on the fifth floor."

As he watched the police investigator disappear into an elevator car, Hannibal quickly removed his jacket and threw it over his lady's shoulders.

Turning to the dazed night manager, Dr. Lecter instructed him to bring the lady a strong cognac to sooth her frazzled nerves. Next Hannibal demanded that arrangements be made to have Lady Murasaki's things moved to his suite.

He then turned to his lady to lead her by the hand to the nearest sofa in the lobby. Once he had sat her down, Hannibal knelt down in front of her.

Looking up into her dark eyes, he said in a solemn whisper, "I will _punish_ him, my love. Popil will not get away with this affront to your honor. I _swear_ it on all I hold scared!" He then took her hand in his and placed a kiss upon it.

Lady Murasaki looked upon the face of her avenging angel and understood exactly what his deadly intentions were.

She leaned down to place a tender kiss upon his lips. Then Murasaki pulled away to look deeply into Hannibal's eyes.

Her voice was soft, and her heart was heavy, but her gaze remained steady nonetheless.

"Hannibal, do what must be done."


	14. Chapter 14

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Special Notation**: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! Your kind words, continued support and encouragement have kept this story going!

**Chapter Fourteen**

Pascal Popil was urgently climbing down the stairwell in search of an exit or sanctuary. He had quickly deduced that Lady Murasaki had safely reached the lobby. And there was no doubt in his mind that the police had already been called. Now, the overwhelming need to escape superseded everything else, including tending to his bleeding wound.

After he had dislodged the letter opener, the searing pain had been almost unbearable. Popil tried his best to stave off the loss of blood by compressing his hand snugly over the injured shoulder, but the crimson fluid seeped through his fingers nonetheless.

Presently, as he traveled down the stairs, his footsteps gradually became more sluggish, each step taken was harder than the last. His breathing was labored and his vision was unfocused as the sweat from his brow poured into his eyes.

The inspector tried his best to maintain his equilibrium by leaning heavily on the metal railing. But with each step he took it became more and more difficult to keep his balance.

Due to the excessive hemorrhaging Pascal Popil feared that the little Jap _putain _may have actually severed an artery. And as the blood steadily left his body Popil grew weaker by the second.

_I'm not going to make it out of here alive,_ he thought miserably.

Popil was dying and he knew it. He could feel his existence ebbing away. And yet he pressed on. Desperately, he hoped against hope that he could somehow survive this nightmare long enough so that he could exact his revenge on the woman that had ruined his life.

_Lady Murasaki_.

lllll

Prevailing memories swiftly inundated the inspector's failing mind. Agonizing regret was called front and center as Popil took inventory of his pitiful life.

Once, not too long ago, he was a dedicated law official infused with the sincere desire to protect and serve the people of France. Inspector Pascal Popil wanted nothing more than to right the wrongs and avenge the victims of the Third Reich who had been shown little or no compassion during the days of Nazi tyranny.

Zealously, Popil, with badge in hand, had gone after those responsible for the war and had callously dispensed death in the camps. One by one, every war criminal he had found was forced to own up to their crimes and submit to the will of justice.

But most important of all, he had done his job well, and always within the boundaries of the law.

For years Inspector Popil's career was conducted with the utmost effectiveness, without a mar on his service record, save one:

_Hannibal Lecter_.

That name alone evoked such vehement abhorrence in the inspector his entire being would be racked with tremulous rage. The revulsion he felt was so potent, that over the years it had corrosively eaten away at Popil's reason, and poisoned his soul.

Ironically, Popil had empathized with Lecter, at first. And to some degree he even understood the boy's need for reprisal. After all, Popil had shared the same sense of moral outrage at losing his own family during the war.

Nonetheless, there was a chief distinction between them. Popil had dutifully worked within the system to make the guilty pay for their misdeeds.

Hannibal Lecter, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had decisively taken the law into his hands. Every act of voracious retaliation had been a complete affront to everything that Popil upheld and believed in.

In Popil's mind, Lecter had thumbed his nose at the establishment, and more importantly at _him_. Anger had given way to the obsession which had driven Inspector Popil to pursue and apprehend his quarry. But the monstrous killer had mockingly thwarted the inspector efforts at every turn. And as his frustration grew, so did his hatred for the Lithuanian nobleman.

But Hannibal had not evaded justice alone. Oh no, he had a willing accomplice in the form of his seductive aunt, Lady Murasaki. Theirs was the most unsavory and unholy of alliances, a bond that Popil could not even begin to fathom.

Whatever was between them, the lady had felt compelled to fiercely protect the homicidal prodigy at any cost. The whore had helped Hannibal conceal his atrocities, provided alibis and even went as far as tampering with evidence in order to keep her precious nephew from facing prison and eventually an executioner.

The bastard had literally gotten away with murder, thanks to her meddling intervention.

But what really rocked Popil to his core, and had sickened him beyond measure was how he had allowed himself to succumb to Lady Murasaki's feminine wiles.

Not only had she perjured herself to protect Hannibal, but what truly galled the inspector was the fact that she had also spoken on _his_ behalf to his superiors.

What clever girl. The bitch knew _exactly _what she was doing! In one fell swoop she had not only kept her nephew from a death sentence, Murasaki also ensured that the inspector would be indebted to her for saving his career.

Popil recriminated himself for being blinded to the truth for so long.

_How could I have been so stupid!_ _It is all so clear to me now. Murasaki dangled herself in front me like carrot, and like a fool, I took the bait_. _She made me believe that she needed me, leading me on, tempting me with her charms._

_She knew I'd fallen in love with her, that I'd lost my heart to her! And the conniving slut allowed it to happen so that Hannibal's safety could be secured. As long as I was distracted by my love for Murasaki, then I would not go after the man she truly loved!_

lllll

As Inspector Popil approached the landing between the third and second floors of the stairwell, he stopped to rest. His grueling efforts to flee had taken their toll on his body. Carefully, he placed his back against the cool surface of the concrete wall behind him then slid down into a sitting position.

Finally he took the time to truly assess the damage Lady Murasaki had wrought. Slowly he moved his hand away from the wound in his shoulder as he winced in pain. The gash was deep, indeed. Popil knew that if he did not get to a hospital soon, he would bleed to death.

Despite his best efforts to stay alert, Popil was starting to feel lethargic. His head suddenly lurched forward as he began to lose consciousness. Pascal fought to keep his eyes open, he needed to stay awake.

But, he was oh so tired, and his body cried out for a brief respite. Closing his eyes, he tried to slow his breathing. All he needed was a few minutes of rest and then he could continue.

lllll

Detective Frank Rizzo cautiously stepped out of the elevator door on the fifth floor. Steadily holding his weapon directly in front him, he was prepared to shoot anything or anyone that moved.

His trained eyes quickly swept the expanse of the corridor as he tried to appraise the situation. Almost immediately, the law enforcement officer saw the blood stained carpet. Crouching down on his haunches, Rizzo inspected the splatter further. His years of experience in crime investigations told him that there was definitely a pattern, a trail that led straight to the assailant.

Swiftly he rose to his feet to follow it.

As he carefully made his away down the hallway, the astute detective saw that the wall to his right was smeared with blood. He quickly deduced that Popil had leaned against the wall for support leaving his bright red mark as he went. Like a bloodhound, Rizzo instinctively trailed along the corridor, and followed the stained wall to see where it might lead.

Very soon he came upon the door for the stairs. Judging from the bloody palm print on its metal surface, it was evident to Rizzo that Popil had definitely entered the stairwell to try to make his getaway.

With his finger wrapped firmly around the trigger of his gun, Detective Rizzo took a deep breath then pushed the door open to gain entry into the dimly lit stairwell.

lllll

Inspector Popil heard the distinctive sound of someone entering the vertical shaft for the stairs several floors above him. He knew that he had to move fast, but in his weakened condition his muscles would not cooperate.

After a half-hearted effort, gravity pulled him right back down to the ground. Popil soon realized that he wasn't going anywhere.

He was done, it was over.

The French investigator finally resigned himself to the inevitable, death or capture by the American authorities. Sadly he didn't know which one would claim him first.

Just then his blurry vision barely made out the expected presence of dark figure standing in front of him. He assumed that it was the arresting officer.

"Ah, so ends the illustrious career of Inspector Pascal Michele Popil." He slurred jokingly to his probable subjugator. At this point, he didn't care anymore, his life was worthless now. He was disgraced by his own reprehensible behavior.

The person before him said nothing as they methodically made their approach towards him. Popil waited for the metallic weight of handcuffs to encircle his wrists or at the very least to have his rights read to him as was the custom of American law enforcement.

But there was nothing…nothing at all except the deafening quiet of the stairwell.

And then without warning he saw a glinting instrument sweep through the air. Popil's eyes opened wide with terror when he realized that the shiny implement drawing closer to him was a razor-sharp surgeon's scalpel. Pitifully he raised his blood soaked hands to try to fend off his attacker, but he was too feeble to put up much of fight.

He screamed in agony when he felt the first of many incisions slice through his hands. Each cut severed off a digit at the knuckle with surgical precision. The scalpel unrelentingly slashed into Popil's flesh until his hands were transformed into fingerless stumps.

Popil's body then slumped over sideways onto the saturated concrete. The side of his face was soon drenched with his own blood. Still he screamed until he felt his assailant quickly roll his body over so that he was lying flat on his back. The aggressor then made quick work of straddling him.

The inspector tried desperately to identify the antagonist that was systematically mutilating him, but his failing vision did not allow for proper recognition. All he could see was the indistinct outline of what he assumed to be a man and the shimmering object he wielded.

Popil was almost sure that it was his hated enemy, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Who else would take such sadistic pleasure in torturing him?

Whoever it was, they worked quickly. Popil could feel nimble fingers unfasten the belt around his waist. And then he heard the familiar sound of a zipper being lowered. It was at that precise moment that the terrifying realization of what was about to happen to him set in.

Popil began to scream again for all he was worth, but was quickly silenced when the monster above him expeditiously shoved the blade into his gaping mouth and heartlessly cut out his tongue. As blood poured down his throat, the inspector could only manage to make the gurgling sounds of a drowning man.

And when at last he felt a latex covered hand reach into his trousers, he prayed for oblivion to take him quickly.

lllll

The moment that Detective Frank Rizzo heard the screams that had emanated directly below him, he began to run down the concrete steps. However, he had spent more time being a desk jockey than in active duty during the last five years. And much to his chagrin, he soon discovered how out of shape he really was as he huffed and puffed his way down the stairs.

The screams had grown louder the closer he got, until all at once they were gone. But soon enough they were replaced by a ghastly yodeling high-pitched babble.

When he finally arrived to the source of the horrid noise, the hardnosed detective stopped cold. He dropped his weapon to the ground as his disbelieving eyes surveyed the grisly scene before him. Very quickly, the nauseating upsurge of bile and vomit started to rise to his throat.

There lying on the concrete landing was the very man he had been pursuing, or worse yet, what was left of him.

The victim was clearly dead. But it didn't take an expert in deduction to know that he had not gone easy. As Rizzo continued to study the carnage displayed before him, he tried to suppress the overpowering urge to expel the contents of his stomach.

When he saw the extent of the damage done to the late Pascal Popil, Detective Rizzo had never felt more horrified in all of his 25 years of police work.

The fingers on both of his hands had been sliced clean off and were conspicuously absent from the scene of the murder. He also observed that poor man's tongue had been completely removed from his mouth and had been flung to the side. And as he viewed the discarded oral appendage, something more startling and vile caught his immediate attention.

Lying next to the mutilated carcass, in a thick gelatinous pool of blood, was Popil's detached penis and scrotum.

Detective Frank Rizzo could not longer hold back the torrent of his partially digested dinner, which had consisted of a stale tuna fish sandwich and cold coffee. Bending over at the waist, the seasoned law enforcement official placed his hand on the railing for support and commenced to vomit violently. His entire body shook until there was nothing left in his stomach to purge.

Subsequently, his ears perked up when he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet echoing throughout the narrow passageway.

_Son-of-a-bitch! The bastard is still here!_

Rizzo rapidly wiped his soiled mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. Next he quickly scooped down to retrieve his discarded firearm. Pulling back on the hammer, he cocked his gun assuring it was ready to fire at a moment's notice.

And then he heard it again, only this time the noise was much more distinctive. Narrowing his eyes, Rizzo tried scanning the perimeter to get a fix on the location of perpetrator.

As he scrutinized the badly lit area he suddenly heard someone running down the stairs directly below him. Rizzo leaned over the railing and saw a male figure dressed all in black just two floors down.

He immediately aimed his weapon over the side of the banister and when he was sure he had the suspect within range, he fired.

But when the bullet ricocheted off the wall, Rizzo cursed himself for not remembering to bring his glasses. But he couldn't let the killer get away, so against better judgment and the protest of his aging body, the detective raced down the stairs after the murderer.

But very soon he found himself short of breath and his steps were faltering. He was just too damned old to give chase. And when he heard the door at the bottom of the stairwell slam, Detective Frank Rizzo knew that he had failed to get his man, in more ways than one.


	15. Chapter 15

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Special Notation**: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! But I know I have a few stalkers still lurking in the shadows reading this story too. C'mon, throw a girl a bone and let me know what you think. Good or bad, it makes no difference.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Lady Murasaki Shikibu had been escorted to Hannibal Lecter's suite by the night manager. After she bid Mr. Brighton a good night, she closed and locked the door, ensuring that no one would enter the room unless it was its rightful occupant.

Afterward, her dark eyes anxiously scanned the elegantly decorated suite with its classical motif until they fell upon the long cherry wood bar on the far side of the hotel room. Murasaki moved towards it with graceful momentum.

Without a moment's hesitation, she hastily snatched a bottle of _Remy Martin XO_ and a _Ridel_ lead crystal tumbler off the smooth polished surface of the bar, before dashing madly into the bathroom.

After strategically placing the glass and the bottle on the rim of the sunk-in Romanesque marble bath, Murasaki was suddenly overwhelmed with the intense desire to cleanse away the repugnant evidence of her ordeal. Quickly she turned the hot water on and allowed the bathtub to fill to capacity.

Next Murasaki daintily dipped a toe into the water to test its temperature. Then she tore off the soiled _kimono _from her sore and battered body. And once the ruined garment littered the marble tiled floor beneath her feet, Murasaki slowly immersed herself into the steaming hot bath to soothe her aching muscles.

As the near-scalding water prickled her skin, the lady reached for the waiting bottle aged cognac to pour herself a generous helping of the amber colored liquor. Bringing the tumbler to her lips, she began to drink deeply, thirstily until the glass was empty.

The lady was not a drinker, per say. She rarely imbibed spirits, except during the rare social gatherings she had infrequently attended or the one glass of wine at dinner. Occasionally, during those difficult times of the month, Lady Murasaki was also known to sip small amounts of warm _sake_ for medicinal purposes.

Nevertheless, Murasaki never allowed herself to overindulge or become intoxicated. And she detested anyone that did. Drunkenness, to her, demonstrated a tremendous lack of self control. And failure to be in command of one's own faculties was a sign of weakness and poor character.

Nevertheless, the recent anguish and degradation she had been forced to endure threatened to decimate her fragile hold on sanity. The memory of Popil's disgusting attempt to force himself on her prompted Lady Murasaki to dismiss proper decorum altogether.

She poured another stiff drink to calm her nerves.

Only this time she actually savored the cognac, reveled in the burning sensation swirling around in her mouth before it flowed down her throat. The alcoholic beverage immediately warmed her stomach as she surrendered to its comforting effects. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wide edge the tub. And as the temperate water caressed her body, she finally allowed herself to relax.

Very soon her thoughts began to drift towards Hannibal. Murasaki could not help the bothersome twinge of anxiety. She prayed that wherever he was and whatever he was doing, it would not prevent him from returning safely to her.

Sighing heavily, the lady pondered on the events the last two days. So many things had transpired. Love had been renewed in her life but with it came with a heavy price tag. She also acknowledged that what started out as innocent holiday had slowly begun to unravel the moment Hannibal's presence was known to Murasaki and Popil.

Pascal just couldn't let go of the past. He allowed his wounded pride and extreme jealousies to cloud his judgment. And right before Murasaki's very own eyes, her dearest friend had metamorphosed into the very thing he hated Hannibal for.

Inspector Popil had become a monster, a vengeful raving thing hell-bent on destroying Hannibal so that he could finally claim the lady as his own.

Murasaki knew Popil had loved her, but she could never bring herself to even contemplate returning his feelings when another man reigned over her heart and always would.

_He knew I couldn't possibly love him, not the way he wanted me to! Oh Pascal, why did you do this to me? Why did you breach my trust? _

As the bitter taste of betrayal dominated her senses, warm salty tears slipped past her tightly closed eyelids. Popil's dishonor had reaped a terrible reprisal, and without an ounce of remorse the lady had unleashed her personal avenger.

_I cared for Popil, trusted him with my very life. And how did he repay me for my generosity and friendship? With treachery, that's how!_

By now, he must have felt the full scale of Hannibal's wrath. Murasaki had sanctioned the bloodthirsty killer that dwelled inside her nephew's divided mind to do what he does best.

And whatever castigation had been carried out, the lady knew it was well deserved.

Murasaki had finally come to terms with Hannibal's killer instincts. At last she understood. Hannibal was no different from the _samurai_ that she had spoken to him about so many years ago. They too had killed in the name of honor, family and fidelity.

They had practice the Bushido Code, the way of the warrior. And it was now clear to Lady Murasaki that Hannibal did to. In her heart she knew he upheld the tenets of the Japanese code of conduct: loyalty, bravery, filial piety, honesty, honor, wisdom, and above all love. And he had killed in accordance to these rules of Bushido.

Unfortunately, these virtues belonged to another time and place. In 12th Century feudal Japan, Hannibal would have been revered as a true _samurai_ warrior. But in modern western society he would be labeled a murderer, a butcher. And that is how Pascal had seen her Hannibal. And by her own admission, for a long time she had viewed him the same way.

It had taken an act of the vilest cruelty to finally remove the veil from her eyes. At long last Lady Murasaki saw the truth and she no longer wanted to hide from it. Hannibal was a ruthless killer when he _needed _to be, not because he _wanted_ to be.

And she loved him all the more for it.

lllll

Lady Murasaki continued to linger in the bath, not wanting to leave the calming warmth that surrounded her body. The combination of the tepid water and soothing cognac had made her feel totally relaxed. She was so comfortable, in fact, that Murasaki had fallen asleep.

And that was the state Hannibal found her in when he had stealthily and quietly slipped into his suite and proceeded to the bathroom. To his loving eyes she appeared so peaceful, so beautifully serene, that he wished not to disturb her from her slumber.

However the fact that she was sitting in a tub full of water after partaking of a good amount of liquor did not bode well with the young doctor. The round crystal bottle of _Remy Martin_ had remained unopened when he had purchased it yesterday and now it sat on the rim of the bath almost ¾ of the way empty.

Fearing that she might drown, he quickly removed his jacket, walked over to the tub then sat on the tiled edge. Hannibal allowed his maroon eyes to briefly take in her splendor, amazed by the way her face, devoid of its usual cosmetics, appeared so youthful, almost childlike.

Suddenly memories of little Mischa sitting in her copper basin as their mother had playfully sprinkled flakes of white snowy soap over her tiny blonde head flashed before his eyes. These were the happiest recollections he had of his childhood and he fiercely protected them. But he could not allow his mind to continue to dwell on those innocent times. They were painful reminders of a life that was no longer his.

For the moment, Hannibal locked away his past in a place of honor inside his memory palace. And now as he gazed upon the woman he loved beyond reason, he knew that he was glimpsing at his future.

He smiled as he leaned in to wake her in the gentlest manner he knew possible.

Closing his eyes he carefully he touched his lips to hers. Next, Hannibal's long fingers slowly glided up the flesh of her exposed wet shoulders and neck until they came to rest on the contours of her angular face. Tenderly he began to caress her cheeks after that he playfully traced her jaw line with an index finger.

However disappointment set in when she did not react to Hannibal's ministrations, so he decided to up the ante. Opening his mouth just a tad he deepened the kiss ever so slightly by moving his full pouty lips smoothly over hers. He could now taste the remnants of the cognac along with her unique sweet essence. The irresistible combination began to stir his passions again.

But he would not force himself upon her like that brute Popil had tried to do. He was a gentleman after all.

So when he felt his lady begin to stir Hannibal withdrew his mouth to look upon her.

As her eyelids fluttered open, Murasaki smiled when she saw her love sitting so close to her.

"Hannibal." She purred almost seductively. It became very apparent to the Lecter that she was feeling no pain. The $300.00 bottle of _Remy Martin _had seen to that.

"My lady, I see that you've helped yourself to the bar. That is not like you, but considering the circumstances I will not scold you too harshly."

Her sensuous lips spread into a coy little smile. "So, I've misbehaved. What are going to do, Dr. Lecter? Take me over your knee and spank my bottom until it's nice and red?"

Hannibal closed his eyes tightly as a small groan formed deep in his throat. The mental image of having his lady over his knee as his hand firmly slapped at her perfectly shaped hindquarters quickly drained the blood from his overactive brain. The precious life giving fluid was rapidly being sent to other sensitive areas of his anatomy.

He knew that Murasaki would not have been so brazen with her words had it not been for the alcohol she had so greedily consumed. But the powerful effect that her uninhibited manner was having on Hannibal was just as intoxicating.

He knew that his arousal was reaching a most dangerous level. And if he continued to allow her siren's song to slowly seduce him, then Hannibal could not be held accountable for his actions.

One of them needed to remain level-headed and focused. And it was painfully obvious that the lady was not that person.

Subsequently, Hannibal tapped into his medical faculties as his voice took on a more commanding tone.

"My lady, you are in _no_ condition to engage in such… frivolities. Allow me to help you out of this bath. You've had such a trying evening and you need your rest."

Hannibal then extended his arm so that he could assist his lady out of the tub. But when she finally latched her hand on the limb being offered to her, she did so with surprising strength. Hannibal gasped when he felt Murasaki begin to tug at his arm, pulling him towards her.

When he looked into her eyes, he was astounded by the smoldering desire contained within the dark depths.

"What I _need_ Hannibal is for you to touch me…" Her voice was weighty with lustful intent.

His breathing became heavy as his maroon orbs, with fascination, watched his hand disappear underneath the cloudy warm water. He could feel the sleeve of his expensive sweater become terribly wet and if it were under any other circumstances, Dr. Lecter would be mildly disgruntled, to say the least.

However when the tips of his well-trained fingers grazed what he correctly perceived to be an erect nipple, his breath caught in his throat and the descent of his arm ceased altogether.

Nervously, Hannibal moistened his lips with his tongue as a slight tremor of trepidation traveled up his spine. He was hesitant to go further. Why?

lllll

It wasn't like he was a blushing virgin anymore. That was hardly the case since he had lost his innocence one moonless night in New Orleans.

It had been _Mardi Gras_ and amidst all of the festive mayhem, Hannibal had slain yet another miscreant near a decaying crypt in Lafayette Cemetery. The death he had brought about was of no consequence. And it had been a necessary act that had justly rid the world of a depraved predator of children.

It is what happened afterward that had made the night so memorable.

Her name had been Celestina, a young Creole girl with a shapely figure that could have stirred even a dead man's passions. And when Hannibal had seen her standing at the wrought iron gate of the cemetery; he knew immediately that she had bore witness to what he had done.

Instinctual self-preservation had told him to silence her at once, but there had been something about her dark glittering eyes that reminded him of the lady that perpetually consumed his thoughts.

Hannibal had been mesmerized by her hypnotic gaze at once. And with no words spoken between them, he allowed the strange girl to lead him out of the graveyard.

He remembered following her through the crowded streets of the French Quarter as the night's revelry threatened to suffocate them. But Hannibal had paid no heed the merriment only to the silent mysterious woman that was leading him to places unknown. Finally when she turned the corner of a darken alley, Hannibal recovered his wits.

He remembered quite clearly, quietly creeping up behind the girl and swiftly placing his hand over her mouth to prevent her screaming. His other arm tightly wrapped itself around his slender waist and without too much of an effort he had drug her further into the dark recesses of the alleyway.

Shockingly, the girl had not put up a struggle. In fact, she _allowed _herself to be hauled away by the very man she had witnessed commit murder that moonless night. And when he slammed her body against a grimy brick wall, she demonstrated no sign of fear or protest. She had merely ogled him with those piercing eyes of hers as his hand continued to render her mute.

Nonetheless, Hannibal tried to intimidate her, to illustrate the power he had over her fragile life. He leaned into her, pinning her voluptuous body against the nameless edifice behind her.

Then he had bent his face forward until he was just inches away from hers. "Do you know what I can do to you? You have no idea of what you've encountered, but you will."

And still to his utter amazement she stared, motionless and unafraid. Fascinated by her either her foolhardy nature or incredible bravery, Dr. Lecter decided to restore her ability to speak by lowering his hand away from her mouth.

And when at last she spoke, her voice had been sultry, and charged with sexual energy. "No_, mon chérie_. It is you that does not know of the _possibilities_. I watched you tonight kill that man that is true. But I do not care _why_ you took his life or the circumstances that led up to his demise. It is your methods that interest me and the power you wield over life and death. You possess a dark _juju_, and I want a part of it."

He had almost laughed at her ignorance and misguided beliefs in black magic. However as he beheld her eyes, they told him she was deadly serious about what she wanted.

"And how pray tell are you going to accomplish this… exchange?"

She smiled prettily at him and it was at that moment he had realized how young she was. She couldn't have been a day past seventeen, and yet her eyes had told a different story. If Hannibal hadn't known better, he could have almost sworn she had been on this earth a very long time. The girl was an old soul indeed.

Without his knowledge or consent, one of her hands had lowered itself to his crotch. Then very deliberately she had begun to stroke the semi-erection in his trousers until Hannibal was fully aroused.

So it had been in that dirty alley that Dr. Hannibal Lecter surrendered the last vestiges of his supposed purity and became a man in every sense of the word.

To this day Hannibal did not know what had possessed him. Perhaps it had been a momentary lapse judgment on his part, or the unrequited passion he still felt for the woman he had left behind in France.

Whatever the reason, it did not stop Hannibal from taking what had been offered so freely to him.

Without hesitation, he had hurriedly crushed his lips to hers kissing the willing girl with a voracious hunger. She in turn placed her hands on his shoulders and quickly wrapped one of her legs around his waist. She then felt his lips move away from hers as he kissed her neck and heaving cleavage with an almost animalistic ferociousness.

Meanwhile Hannibal's fingers trembled as they hiked up the length of her skirt. And he had wasted no time to desperately seek out her womanhood. When he finally had reached his objective he hastily moved the crotch of her panties aside. Wanting to discover the secrets of her femaleness, Hannibal had deeply plunged his fingers into her moist folds as she cried out with pleasure.

"Inside, _mon chérie, _I want you _inside_ of me! Only then can I feel your power!" The girl panted hotly in his ear the very words that had torn away his remaining self-control.

Almost violently he obliged her request as he set free the crazed lust he had held back for so long. Viciously he had bit into her neck, drawing out her warm blood in the process. And as Hannibal reveled in the coppery tangy taste in his mouth, the girl had hissed between her teeth. But despite the pain she had urgently assisted him in unfastening his trousers.

Hannibal immediately had thrown his head back as he groaned loudly when he felt her soft hand encircle the shaft of his rampant penis to draw it out. When her eyes fell upon the aching member she had gasped her approval.

"_Mon dieu_, you are a big boy aren't you?"

Hannibal had smiled wolfishly as he gave her his non-verbal response. Gripping her waist he had hoisted the girl up against the wall, giving her no choice but to wrap her legs around him for support. Then with a mighty grunt he impaled her to the hilt, filling her completely. Hannibal then began to thrust forward with an unpracticed rhythm. However what he had lacked in experience he made for with the vigor of youth as he tore into her tender flesh again and again.

Thinking back to that night, with that girl, Hannibal had not cared about pleasing her. He had desired nothing more than to satisfy the unfulfilled emptiness of his ravenous appetite for Lady Murasaki. He had been a slave to his own immediate need.

_God, how I wished so badly that it had been my lady. I would have gladly submitted my virginity to her, instead of that nameless stranger_.

After what seemed like an eternity of deeply plundering the tight sheath that surrounded his manhood, the almost unbearable tingling sensation he had felt below the waist heralded his inevitable climax. Closing his eyes, Hannibal had lost himself to the moment, forgetting his reality.

His entire body shook as he spilt his hot seed deep inside of the anonymous recipient of his passion. In between heated pants of breath Hannibal had cried out the only name that could have possibly done the occasion justice.

Afterward, wracked with guilt and shame, he was completely shaken by his first taste of carnal knowledge. Hannibal could not bring himself to look upon the girl who had so willingly given her body to him.

Meanwhile a little groan of disappointment had escaped past her lips as she felt her newfound lover abruptly extract himself from her body. As she leaned against the wall, admiringly she had watched him quickly readjust his clothing, regaining his composure.

Smiling crookedly at Hannibal she had said in a most haughty manner, "That was nice, _mon amour_. But next time call me _Celestina_."

The sound of her voice had unwittingly shattered his fragile illusion, angering Hannibal to no end. And he was immediately filled with remorse. He was disgusted by his selfish quest for sexual fulfillment. In his anguish he sadly realized that he had for not waited for his true love. Hannibal had disgraced himself and dishonored the memory of his lady with this dalliance.

And he knew of only one way for honor to be restored.

Quickly he had reached into his pocket to retrieve his 15 blade scalpel. Like a security blanket the sharp instrument had brought instant comfort to the distraught young man. The cutting tool felt good in his grip, it had felt so right.

Then with malicious intent beating his heart, Hannibal slowly cast a hateful glare upon Celestina's octoroon features as he gave her a shark-like grin.

Lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper Hannibal had declared mockingly, "Don't worry, _mon amour._ There won't be a next time."


	16. Chapter 16

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first " Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Sixteen **

" Hannibal is something wrong?" Lady Murasaki asked with grave concern. Alarmed by the blank stare etched on her beloved's face, she immediately tried to ferret out its cause.

Murasaki found herself struggling to recover from her alcohol induced fogginess as her eyes tried to focus on the man sitting so close to her.

Hannibal, in the interim, snapped out of his reverie the instant he heard his lady speaking to him.

Removing his hand out of the misty water, it was dripping wet as he brought it up to caress the side of her face.

Smiling lovingly at Lady Murasaki he finally said, "There is no reason to worry, my love. Everything is as it should be, now that I am here with you."

Murasaki returned his smile. Grasping his hand within her own, she brought the wet appendage to her lips. She then closed her eyes as she tenderly kissed his palm.

"I love you, Hannibal." She'd whispered the words so softly, that even his keen sense of hearing could barely perceive the sound.

But Hannibal did hear her declaration nonetheless. And it caused his heart to skip a beat. Momentarily, he had actually stopped breathing, afraid that somehow he was in the midst of a dream.

Was he worthy of her devotion? After all the evil he had done, after all the lives he had devoured, Hannibal had believed that he was beyond any sort of redemption. Wretched and cursed was he, tainted with the blood of his victims.

And because of this, love, _true love_, would always be unattainable to him. Or so he thought.

Now as Hannibal Lecter gazed upon the woman that had once spurned him, his heart was full of love for her. It was a love so powerful, so overwhelming that it threatened to consume everything in its path if he did not find a way to express it.

At last he allowed himself to exhale, breathily affirming his own avowal. "I love _you_, Murasaki. More than you'll ever know." Then he lowered his face toward hers and hungrily captured her mouth.

Almost at once, her beautiful lips opened for him like a blossoming lotus flower. Sighing deeply, Murasaki's delicate hands attached themselves to his angelic face as her tongue glided inside Hannibal's waiting orifice.

Lecter in turn, swiftly embraced her, allowing her drenched body to saturate his clothing. At this point he no longer cared. The moment he felt her tongue clash with his, his body was set ablaze with flaming desire.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted this woman with every inch of his being. To finally possess her was his most desperate wish. However the rational side of him told him to wait. Hannibal wanted to ravage her, but not like this. It was painfully apparent to the astute physician that Murasaki was still very much impaired. And even a creature such as he had principles.

Hannibal would make love to Murasaki, but only when the time was right for both of them.

Consequently, he slowly ended the smoldering kiss that held so much promise. As he withdrew, he opened his eyes and smiled at the face he beheld. Murasaki, with eyes still tightly shut, licked her lips to savor the remnants of their passionate exchange. Wanting to taste him again, her mouth sought his out, but Hannibal quickly backed away from her.

When she finally opened her eyes, Lady Murasaki found, to her great disappointment, that Hannibal was now standing several feet from the tub holding up a large fluffy towel.

Narrowing her eyes she did not bother to mask the frustration in her voice. " Hannibal, what are you doing? Don't you want me?"

Lecter smiled reassuringly at his lady. "Of course I do, but not like this, my love. I do not wish to take advantage of you. You are still not quite yourself."

Angered by his words of supposed rejection, the lady leisurely rose from the water to give him a full view of what he was refusing. When his hungry eyes beheld the splendiferous vision of her nude body, it all Hannibal could do not drop the towel and go to her.

_My God, she is beautiful beyond words!_

As a boy, Dr. Lecter had a semblance, an idea of what Murasaki's naked form might look like. Indeed he had fantasized about it enough. But the reality made the fantasies of his youth pale by comparison.

And as she carefully stepped out of the bath, he was taken aback by her astounding yet natural beauty.

Lady Murasaki was perfect in his eyes.

Although she was a woman nearing her forties, her body was still lithe and youthful. From the curve of her shoulders to the tip of her toes she exuded a womanly sensuality that roused Hannibal's carnal appetite.

He couldn't help noticing that her breasts were ripe and full, surprising attributes for an Asian woman, but still very flattering on her. Hannibal could also see that the sensitive tips were achingly erect and begging to be suckled.

When she began to move towards him, he admired the muscular definition of her flat stomach. An involuntary moan emanated from his dry throat as he imagined himself slowly kissing her abdomen then dipping the tip of his pointed tongue into her navel.

Hannibal sighed as he bit his bottom lip at the sight of her tapered waist that gave way to the flare of her hips. His eyes were then drawn to the inverted triangle of her pubic mound then to the creamy white thighs that seemed to go on forever.

As he felt his already rock-hard erection challenge the stitching of his pants, he couldn't help emitting a low needy growl.

Oh, how he longed to part those thighs and bury his face between them.

Hannibal was so caught up in his sexual musing that he was actually startled when he felt his lady angrily wrench the towel out of his grasp.

Slightly amused by her annoyance, he watched with mischievous glee as she wrapped the thirsty towel around the body he was just ogling.

lllll

Afterward, Hannibal had assisted in dressing his aunt. As she sat on edge of the bed, he searched and found a satiny beige nightgown amongst her things.

Like a doting father, he motioned to her to lift her arms as he slipped the gown over her head. He then affectionately kissed the angry scowl on her lips as he pulled down the garment. Afterwards, he picked up her hairbrush and proceeded to sweep her raven locks with long even strokes.

"I'm still upset with you, Hannibal." Murasaki had chided her nephew.

"I know," he said quietly. "But you will thank me in the morning."

After ensuring that her hair was restored to a lustrous shine, he placed the brush back on the night table. Next, he sauntered over to the dresser and opened up his medical bag. Reaching deep inside, he quickly drew out a bottle of pills. He then popped the lid open with his thumb and carefully tapped out two tablets onto an open palm.

After that, Dr. Lecter returned to Murasaki and sat down beside her. Taking her hand in his, he gently placed the pills within her grasp.

The lady eyed the white tablets suspiciously. "What are these?" she asked warily.

"_Aspirin,_ to help you sleep, nothing more."

"I don't want them," she firmly declined.

"You don't have a choice. Doctor's orders."

He then poured her a glass of water from the pitcher that had been resting on the nightstand.

Handing her the glass and Hannibal watched her down the aspirin in one gulp.

When he was satisfied that she had complied with his request, Hannibal rose from the bed then pulled back the covers.

Patting the mattress with his hand he said, "Come on, off to bed with you. You need your rest. We can pick up where we left off. _Tomorrow_. Provided of course that you still have any recollection of what happened."

Suddenly feeling very tired, Murasaki silently obeyed and crawled underneath the covers. Hannibal then tucked her in like a sleepy child then planted a light kiss onto her smooth forehead.

"Good night, my love." He said tenderly.

Murasaki yawned then murmured sleepily, "Good night, Hannibal."

lllll

After quietly leaving the bedroom, Hannibal Lecter went to change out of the day's well-worn attire. But just as he approached the cherry wood wardrobe that contained his clothes, there came an insistent knock at the door.

Sighing tiredly, he walked towards it nonetheless. After pulling the door open he was not surprised to find a very exasperated Detective Rizzo accompanied by a uniformed officer standing in the hallway.

"Good evening Detective. I hope you've come to tell me that Inspector Popil has been apprehended and is now in your custody."

Rizzo shook his head in vehement denial. "No. He's dead Dr. Lecter. _Murdered_ is more like it. He'd been turned into hamburger meat by the time I found him!"

Hannibal did his best to feign astonishment. "How terrible! Do you know who did it?"

With a grim expression on his face, the seasoned detective looked at Hannibal squarely in the eye. "Well, I was kind of hopin' that _you _could shed some light on the subject."

Dr. Lecter arched a well-defined eyebrow while the rest of his countenance remained disturbingly impassive.

"How can _I_ help you, Detective Rizzo?"

"Can you tell me where you went to this evening after I left you in the lobby?"

Hannibal smiled pleasantly. No matter what continent he was on, policemen were all the same: narrow-minded and incredibly stupid.

"Of course I can. After making certain that my aunt was properly escorted to my suite, I went to her room to oversee the removal of her belongings."

The uniformed officer stepped forward suddenly. Hannibal could see the contempt in his steely gray eyes.

"Can anyone else collaborate this?"

Rizzo immediately held his hand up to silence his subordinate. "That's enough Officer Matthews! _I'm_ askin' the questions here, got it?"

Matthews was quickly taken down a peg or two by the detective's harsh tone.

"Yes, sir." He said glumly.

Detective Rizzo then turned his attention back to Lecter. "Well Doc, can anyone place you at your aunt's suite?"

Hannibal's smile became broader. "Why yes. I was assisted by a most charming chambermaid. I believe her name was Lucille."

Rizzo immediately recognized the name. "Yeah, she was one of the broads that found Napier. So you're sayin' if I talk to this _Lucille_ she can vouch for your whereabouts?"

Lecter simply nodded.

But Rizzo was still not convinced and when he noticed the wet sleeve on the doctor's sweater his dark beady eyes narrowed with skepticism.

"What happened to your fancy sweater, Doc? Why is it all wet?"

Hannibal gave the detective a knowing smirk as he motioned for the older man to lean in closer. "For the lady's sake I'd rather not say."

The detective was getting agitated with Lecter's evasions. "Well for _your_ sake, you'd better say!"

Straightening his spine, Hannibal Lecter stood tall as he leveled a steady gaze at the probing law enforcement officer.

"Very well then…if you must know I was caring for my aunt after I returned to my suite. The poor dear, in her understandable anguish, took to the drink to dull her pain. When I found her she fast asleep and neck deep in a bath full of water. Naturally, I was concerned for her safety, so I helped her out of the tub to prevent her from drowning. Hence the wet sleeve, Detective Rizzo."

Something still wasn't right. Lecter's story was too neat, too perfect. It was as if it were thought out in advance and very well rehearsed.

"May we come in? I'd like to speak with your aunt if you don't mind."

Hannibal was quickly prompted to place his hand on the frame of the door to bar the policemen from invading his suite.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Detective. She is fast asleep and I do NOT wish her to be disturbed. Can't this wait until the morning? I will personally see to it that she is available to answer any and all questions you wish to ask her."

Rizzo was incredibly anxious to speak with Lady Murasaki. However, barring a warrant, he knew that Lecter was within his legal rights to deny him access to her.

Regrettably, the detective was left with no other option than to wait until morning to get his answers.

"Okay, we'll play this your way, for now. We'll be back first thing in the morning. Make sure she's ready to see me at 8 o'clock _sharp_."

Hannibal stared daggers into the detective, as he imagined what it would be like to gouge out his beady inquisitive eyes. Detective Frank Rizzo was beginning to be a nuisance.

"You have my word as gentleman." Dr. Lecter assured with a smile.

Rizzo nodded and as he turned to go he returned young physician's smile. He then stated in authoritative tone, "Oh Doc, there's one more thing. Don't even _think_ about leavin' town."

Hannibal responded cordially. "I wouldn't dream of it, Detective."


	17. Chapter 17

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first " Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Seventeen **

The next morning, true to his word, Detective Frank Rizzo was standing right outside suite 727 at 8 o'clock sharp. But he wasn't alone. Flanked by Officers Matthews and Dougherty, he had brought them along just in case the impending interrogation with Lady Murasaki got out hand.

_Between 'em they got half a brain, but they're all the muscle I need if Lecter decides to get cute. _

Rizzo was nobody's fool. Years of dealing with the criminal element had honed his investigative instincts. And 9 times out of 10 his hunches proved to be right on the money.

_Hell, San Quentin's full of perps I've brought in on a hunch. And there's always room for one more… _

This time his gut told him, loud and clear, that he should not underestimate Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Rizzo knew that the man was dirty, now all he had to do was prove it.

Raising his fist to knock on the door, he was shocked when it was suddenly swung open. Rizzo sneered when he saw Hannibal Lecter standing at its threshold looking as fresh as a daisy. Even first thing in the morning the young doctor looked like a matinee idol. Impeccably dressed and coiffed, Lecter was the very definition of style.

"Good morning Detective, how good of you to come." The young nobleman's greeting was gracious as he gave his guests a courteous little bow.

Rizzo, on the other hand, displayed the dour expression of an undertaker as he looked at his suspect with cold black eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…can we come in? I'd like to get this over and done with."

The detective's blatant rudeness was a direct affront to Hannibal's sensibilities. But for his aunt's sake he let it pass. He would deal with Rizzo soon enough and give him a lesson in etiquette that he would never forget.

Stepping aside he allowed the three policemen to quickly gain entry into his suite. Afterward Hannibal closed the door behind him then led the anxious men to where Lady Murasaki was seated.

When Rizzo's eyes fell upon the Japanese beauty, his breath caught in his throat. He had gotten a quick glimpse at her the night before. And even in a shaken and disheveled state, the lady hadn't been bad to look at.

But now, as she sat at the breakfast table reading the morning paper, she was absolutely stunning.

She had chosen to wear silky taupe blouse and a matching skirt. A long string of pearls was roped around her long swan-like neck. And pair of heavy teardrop pearl earrings dangled from each earlobe. Her make up was simple, with just a splash of color across her full lips. But against the pale backdrop of her face, the effect was quite dramatic. Lastly, her long black hair had been swept up into a very becoming up-do.

_The dame sure is classy_, Rizzo thought appreciatively.

Hannibal meanwhile, addressed his aunt. "Pardon the intrusion, my dear. But these fine officers would like a word with you."

Lowering her newspaper Lady Murasaki greeted the law enforcement officials with a friendly welcoming smile.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I am Lady Murasaki Shikibu-Lecter. How may I be of service?"

Rizzo cleared his throat then motioned for his two officers to remove their hats. After all, they were in the presence of a lady.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lecter. But we are in the middle of a double homicide investigation and we would like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

The lady continued to smile demurely as she offered the officers a seat. "I don't mind in the least. May I offer you some breakfast? Coffee perhaps or one of Hannibal's delicious croissants? He makes them from scratch, you know. My nephew is quite the chef."

Rizzo watched as Lecter suddenly materialized behind his aunt's chair. Affectionately the young man placed a hand on her shoulder as hers gracefully rose up to grasp his wrist.

Smiling at the bewildered officers, Hannibal said silkily, "My dear lady, you do flatter me. I've been known to dabble from time to time, but I hardly think _my_ meager talents are up to par with the _Cordon Bleu_."

The detective intently watched the exchange between the couple. Their compliments to each other were well timed and flawlessly executed. It was almost like a perfectly choreographed dance.

However, as fascinated as he was by the lady's good looks and the curious nature of her relationship with Lecter, Detective Rizzo returned to the business at hand.

"Thank you, Ma'am, but no. We had some coffee and doughnuts at the station. Anyway, I don't want to beat around the bush here. I'm sure you already know about Inspector Popil."

Lady Murasaki lowered her eyes away from the detective's scrutinizing glower as she whispered, "Yes, Hannibal told me this morning…how dreadful."

Rizzo's eyes narrowed just a bit. And then he bluntly asked. "So you had no idea that Popil was murdered last night?"

Lifting her eyes to look directly at her inquisitor, she gave him her firm reply. "No, I didn't. Hannibal thought it best not to tell me since I was still so terribly upset last evening."

Detective Rizzo gave her curt nod. The poor woman had nearly been raped. And if had been under different circumstances he would have empathized with her. But he had a real mess on his hands and the top brass including the commissioner were already breathing down his neck to solve this case.

Only thing was, Rizzo had been truly baffled by the events leading up to the murder. Mere minutes had elapsed from the time he'd left Lecter in lobby until his arrival on the fifth floor. Had there been enough time for Lecter to travel up to his own suite on the seventh floor, change clothes _and_ then disappear into the stairwell to murder Popil?

Probably not, but something about the dark figure he had seen in that stairwell last night was reminiscent of Dr. Lecter.

It could have been Lecter, _except_, the timeline just didn't add up. To make matters worse, when Rizzo interviewed Lucille the chambermaid, she verified that the young doctor had been with her the entire time she had packed up his aunt's things.

And if Lady Murasaki's story matched up with Lecter's account of what happened, then Detective Rizzo was shit-out-of-luck with the investigation.

However, there still remained one undeniable fact: Dr. Lecter had several brushes with the law before.

_And you know what they say: where there's smoke, there's fire. _

That disturbing detail alone made the familiar little nagging feeling in the pit of stomach work overtime.

However there was still something about these murders didn't fit. He could certainly understand why Popil might have been murdered by Lecter. The Doc had plenty of motives to whack that guy.

But then there was _Napier._ How in the hell did he fit into all this? The detective had wracked his brain all night about it, but he just couldn't correlate the connection between the two victims.

Still, Detective Rizzo couldn't shake the feeling that Lecter was _definitely_ hiding something, but what?

However, Rizzo knew that before he could take this guy down, he wanted to be sure that the dark figure he had seen in the stairwell had been actually Lecter.

"Ma'am what can you tell me about your nephew's whereabouts last night?"

Murasaki's grip tightened around Hannibal's hand as her dark eyes widened with incredulous surprise. "Why, he was here, Detective. Where else would he have been?"

Again, Rizzo cleared his throat then in a raspy voice he declared, "Mrs. Lecter, I have reason to believe that the Doc here had something to do with Popil's murder."

Releasing her beloved's wrist, the lady laid her hands into her lap with poise. Her unfathomable eyes never left the detective's jowly bulldog face as she rebuked Rizzo's accusations.

"That is _preposterous_, Detective! Hannibal could not have committed such an act!"

It was now the investigator's turn to smile. "Oh really? That's not what Popil's file said. He gave us all kinds of goodies before he was carved up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey! And this isn't the first time Dr. Lecter's been suspected of murder, right?"

She responded unwaveringly. "That is correct, _but_ Hannibal was absolved of all charges. Or did the Inspector fail to mention _that_ in his report to you?"

Rizzo shook his head. "Nope, he mentioned it. He also mentioned that _you_ provided a very convenient alibi. But you know what I find _convenient_? It's the fact that somehow every man that's insulted or hurt you winds up _dead_!"

"Careful, Detective you are upsetting her." Hannibal warned. There was no mistaking the deadly glint in the physician's blood-red eyes.

But Rizzo paid him no heed. "There was bad blood between the two men. And _you _were right in the middle of it, weren't you, Mrs. Lecter? It must have been be a real power trip to manipulate these two _saps _to fight over you.

I gotta admit though, you _are_ drop dead gorgeous. Any man would be outta their mind to let a cream puff like you slip past their fingers! Hell, they'd do _anything_ to keep you, maybe even _kill_ off the competition?"

"That is quite enough, Detective! I will NOT have my aunt questioned as if she were some common _tramp_! You have taken advantage of our hospitality and I'm afraid that you've just worn out your welcome. I will see you out."

Rizzo raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm going. But you haven't seen the last of me, Doc. Next time I come calling, I'll have a _warrant_."

The threat had no affect on Hannibal, he didn't even flinch. "Very well, Detective Rizzo. You do what you must. But if you want to contact me again you will do so through my _attorney_."

Rizzo scoffed. "Only the _guilty_ retain a bottom-feeder at the onset of an investigation, Doc."

To which Dr. Lecter retorted, "Oh, I can assure you that _Mr. Bailey_ is no bottom-feeder. As a defense attorney he is a _shark_ in the courtroom. It's fascinating to watch him chew up little closed-minded policemen like you and spit them out!"

"_Mr. Bailey_?" Rizzo repeated dumbly. He was almost afraid to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Yes, Detective, I've retained the services of _F. Lee Bailey_. You might be aware of his notoriety since he was just mentioned recently in all of the papers."

Rizzo tried to swallow the uncomfortable lump that had just formed in his throat. "Yeah, the Sheppard case, I may have read somethin' about it, so what?"

Hannibal's smile was terribly patronizing. And the arrogance in his voice grated on the detective's last nerve. "I must say that he was quite affective in the recent re-trial of the doctor that had been convicted of murdering his wife a few years ago. But thanks to Mr. Bailey's _brilliant_ arguments before of the Supreme Court, Dr. Sheppard's sentence was not only overturned, he was completely exonerated."

Detective Rizzo's jaw dropped. "Holy shit!"

"Now, if you don't mind, the lady and I would like to finish our breakfast. We've planned on taking a tour of the different vineyards in the region today. My dear aunt is in dire need of some pleasant scenery to take her mind off all horrors of late. You and your men are more than welcome to follow us if you like…just be sure keep a _discrete_ distance."

Afterward, Hannibal graciously bid the men a good day, showed them to the door then slammed it soundly in their astonished faces.

lllll

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the lack of romance in this chapter, but I felt this installment was very necessary to move the plot along.

I also wanted to mention that the inclusion of F. Lee Bailey may have the purists balking a bit, since the Sam Sheppard re-trial case didn't happen until 1966. But for the sake of the story and the fact that Dr. Sheppard was also a physician accused of murder I ask that you lovely people suspend disbelief.


	18. Chapter 18

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Eighteen**

At precisely 11 o'clock that same morning Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Lady Murasaki stepped out the lobby elevator car. They had both changed out of their earlier apparel and had opted for a more casual wardrobe.

The lady had decided to clad herself in a fitted black leather jacket with a snowy white turtleneck sweater peeking out from underneath. Her matching leather pants were skin tight and the tapered leg bottoms were stuffed into a pair of ankle high stiletto-heeled boots. Hannibal looked on in appreciation at the way the constricting trousers made her derrière appear round and tempting. Like a delicious juicy apple he would love to sink his teeth into.

As for the well-groomed young doctor, he also wore a jacket of leather, but his was dyed a deep rich brown. Underneath, he wore an off-white V-neck cable knit sweater with a pair of perfectly pressed russet colored pants.

Anyone that was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of them thought they made quite the attractive couple.

Hannibal smiled as he acknowledged the complimentary stares. Inspired perhaps by the romantic ambiance of the décor or the lovelorn sighs from some of the female admirers, the handsome young man felt compelled to kiss his lady full on the lips.

Lady Murasaki was somewhat stunned by this very public display of affection, but she soon fell under the spell of Hannibal's ardent kiss.

When he finally withdrew, he had left her breathless and wanting more.

Still, she coyly chastised him for his apparent brazenness. "Hannibal, what's come over you? All these people about…you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

The young doctor gave her an impish smirk then whispered intensely, "If you wished me to behave myself, then you shouldn't have worn those _scandalously_ tight pants."

Lady Murasaki gasped when she felt the hot blush of color rise to her pale cheeks. However, she chose to say nothing.

Then he asked her wait while he went to the front desk to procure a rented vehicle for the day's outing.

"I shan't be a moment, my love." He quietly reassured her.

Murasaki quickly got over her moment of embarrassment when she saw the loving expression on his face. Truly grateful to be taken out of the stuffy hotel room, she bestowed Hannibal with a radiant smile. However, the moment she noticed Detective Rizzo and his officers standing near the entrance to _La Mansion du Vin_ restaurant, the beaming grin soon became an angry scowl.

Lady Murasaki now knew that she and her nephew would be under the watchful eye of the Los Angeles Police Department. She cringed at the thought of having their every move continually scrutinized and examined. But she would do her best to make the most of the day.

In any case she would be with her Hannibal, and that's all that mattered to her.

Soon he returned to her side. And much to her pleasant surprise she also saw Henri, the friendly _maître d'_ of _La Mansion du Vin _trailing not too far behind. She quickly saw that the attentive head waiter was carrying a heavy looking picnic basket. He was grinning from ear to ear as he gave her a cheery little wave.

Henri's happy mood was infectious and Murasaki found herself waving back. After Hannibal gave her a quick peck on the cheek, curiosity summarily got the best of her.

"Good morning, Henri. How nice to see you again."

Henri saluted her with a reverent little bow. "Likewise, Madame Lecter."

Lady Murasaki turned to face her nephew. "Hannibal, what is all this?"

Dr. Lecter's reply was gracious. "Ah, my dear lady, I have asked Henri to pack us a most sumptuous lunch for our outing. You wouldn't want to be traipsing about the Californian countryside on an empty stomach?"

He then retrieved the basket from Henri and looped his arm through the handle.

Pleased with Hannibal's forethought, Murasaki said, "You think of everything, don't you? You never leave anything to chance."

The lady smiled when she observed the amused expression playing across his face. As one of his eyebrows shot up, he said silkily, "One cannot conduct one's life without proper planning, my lady. It wouldn't be civilized."

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Once they had stepped outside, they were immediately greeted by the radiance and warmth of the California sunshine. Above them was a heavenly cerulean sky with sparse wispy white clouds that appeared so close, Murasaki thought she could simply reach out and touch them. Off in the distance as far as the eye could see were the undulating hills and valleys with patches verdant forests and dotted with the telltale signs of wine producing estates. The scenic landscape reminded Hannibal very much of Tuscany.

As they waited patiently for their mode of transportation to arrive, Lady Murasaki whispered to Hannibal. "I'm afraid we are going to be followed this afternoon. I just saw Detective Rizzo in the lobby."

"Yes, I saw him too." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before he said, "I wouldn't worry too much, my love. Their automobile will not be able to follow us. Not where we are going."

"And where _exactly_ are we going, Hannibal?" Lady Murasaki asked with a smile.

Lecter smiled back. "Patience, my dear one, patience. All good things come to those who wait."

Just then the valet drove up to the curb mounted on a shiny chrome and steel mechanical steed. Before dismounting the two-wheeled vehicle the young parking attendant loudly revved the powerful engine.

"A _motorcycle_, Hannibal? You must be feeling daring today."

His mischievous grin, for the briefest of moments, made him appear like the little boy Murasaki had loved so well.

"It must be you, my lady. You bring out the adventurer in me."

A little bolt of excitement raced up her spine as she watched him tip the valet and then secure their picnic basket on the back of the bike.

When Hannibal completed his task in record time, he then whirled about to face his lady. She could see that he held a sleek black helmet in his right hand and a pair riding goggles in his left. He offered these articles to her which she quickly retrieved. Hannibal in turn picked up his own protective material.

After they had donned their riding gear, Hannibal Lecter and Lady Murasaki mounted the motorcycle then quickly departed with Detective Rizzo and his compatriots following closely behind them in a conspicuous unmarked police car.

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Now, as Lady Murasaki sat behind Hannibal on the motorbike, with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, she had never felt so free. She enjoyed the sensation of the wind on her face, liberated, for the moment, from the daily demands of her life.

However as they speed past the lush flora and pastoral scenery, memories of their trip to Fontainebleau to seek out Kolnas at his countryside restaurant suddenly flashed before her eyes.

That journey had been motivated by Hannibal's insatiable need for revenge. And Lady Murasaki had been his reluctant traveling companion during that time. She had only agreed to go along in the hopes of somehow dissuading Hannibal from his fatal plans.

Sadly, she had been powerless to stop Hannibal's vengeful machinations.

But now with sun shining high above them illuminating everything in their path, Lady Murasaki refused to give in to her dark thoughts. She would take this moment in time with Hannibal as a wonderful gift.

And she would not allow the recent events of Napier and Popil's deaths taint this day. Besides, Lady Murasaki was certain that Hannibal had nothing to do with concierge's murder. And whatever he had done to Pascal it was done out of love for her.

She had her questions about the latter incident but she would not pry. The time would come soon enough when Hannibal would divulge the details of his chivalrous act. In the meantime, Murasaki would push aside all negative contemplations and live for the moment.

The world may look upon her love as a monstrous killer, but to her Hannibal was her steadfast protector. The lady never felt more safe or loved. Not even with Robert. She sighed happily, tightening her embrace around his waist, as the vibrations produced by the motorcycle's engine lulled her into a complete sense of security. Like a little child, she rested the side of her face on his broad back.

Hannibal in the interim, smiled when he felt his lady's warmth penetrate through the thick material of his jacket.

Carefully, he maneuvered the motorbike down hill on a narrow non-paved road. Checking the mirror to his left, he could still see the ominous reflection of the black Studebaker tagging along behind them. And he knew that sooner rather than later, he would need to rid himself of his relentless pursuers.

Then suddenly off to his right, Hannibal saw his opportunity to escape and quickly seized upon it. There was a shallow ravine that he knew that he could easily travel on that the large cumbersome automobile could not.

Revving the engine, the motorcycle picked up speed then he sharply turned the wheel towards the narrow valley.

"Hannibal, what do you think you are doing?!" Murasaki asked anxiously.

She was immediately wide-eyed with fear. And when she felt the rear wheel skid off the lip of the gulch, Muraski screamed, "_Hannibal_!" Murasaki then shut her eyes and held onto her daredevil nephew for dear life when the motorbike was briefly airborne.

Much to her relief, however, the motorcycle soon landed back on _terra firma_ with a heavy thud. Hannibal meanwhile swiftly turned his vehicle 180 degrees so that he was now facing the black car above. Placing his feet on the ground for balance, he sat on the bike, letting the engine idle for a moment. He smiled broadly as he observed that the heavy automobile's front end was dangling precariously off the ledge of the ravine.

Rizzo and his men, left with no other option, were forced to put the car in reverse before they careened forward to certain injury or death. Hannibal grinned mischievously as he raised his hand to his forehead, giving the aggravated officers a little salute as they backed away from the ridge. He then rotated the bike around and proceeded to whistle a merry little tune as he sped away.

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Soon they arrived at their destination, the _San Mateo _winery. Nestled away in a steep valley, the vineyard was bordered on three sides by the mountainous terrain and a vast forest of tall redwood trees. Lady Murasaki quickly understood why Hannibal might have chosen to visit this particular wine grower. It was the only place in the region that appeared to be hiding from the world.

Slowly, Hannibal drove up then stopped in front of a tall wrought iron gate. He immediately noticed that there was a long thick rope tied to a rather large bell that rested on top of the gate. Giving the twined cord a couple good hard tugs, Hannibal soundly announced their arrival to the keepers of the vineyard.

Almost immediately a rotund looking man with a thick dark mustache appeared at the gate.

In a thick Mexican accent he asked, "Are you Dr. Lecter?"

"Yes, I am." Hannibal quickly confirmed.

The gatekeeper smiled and said respectfully, "_Benvenidos_ to _San Mateo._ I am Guillermo Ortega. My wife, Jacinta and I have been expecting you."

Mr. Ortega then flung the gate open to allow Hannibal and Lady Murasaki to advance into the spacious courtyard. After parking the motorcycle, the couple quickly dismounted.

From the corner of her eye Murasaki could see a plump woman fast approaching. She correctly deduced that the portly lady was Mrs. Ortega.

As she continued to amble briskly in the direction of the new arrivals, Mrs. Ortega became winded. She was not accustomed to moving so rapidly. When she finally standing in front of the handsome looking couple, she said breathlessly, "_Buenas tardes_, I am Jacinta. We are so pleased to have you as our guests. It is not very often that we have visitors to our humble little _viñero_."

"Nonsense, it is _we_ that should be honored. Your home, from what I can see, is absolutely breathtaking." Hannibal said kindly.

Indeed, the sprawling estate was designed and constructed during in the Spanish Colonial period. Its immense cobblestone courtyard seemed to stretch back for miles and led to a multi-storied Pueblo- style stucco structure. Complete with twin balconies below its double-hung windows, an expansive porch and a terracotta tiled roof that was very reminiscent to Japanese design, Lady Murasaki immediately fell in love the _hacienda_.

As she admired the splendor of her surroundings she said, "Oh Hannibal, this is beautiful!" She then threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for bringing me here!"

Hannibal embraced her in return. "You are very welcome."

Mr. and Mrs. Ortega, who had been looking on, were truly touched by the genuine affection shared between their guests. It was heartwarming for them to see a man and woman so very much in love with each other.

Guillermo, immediately reminded of the days when he began courting wife almost thirty-five years ago, put his arm around Jacinta. Then he said in a boisterous tone, "Come, allow us to show you around our estate. It has been in my family for almost five generations!"

Jacinta hastily reprimanded her husband. "Guillermo, they cannot walk the grounds until after they've had their _almuerzo_!"

Slapping a large beefy hand to his forehead he agreed. "Of course, _querida,_ as always, you are right." He then gestured for Hannibal and his lady to follow them to the main house.

Hannibal, however, politely protested. "There really is no need to go through so much trouble." Pointing to the large overstuffed basket still secured to the back of the motorcycle, he continued. "As you can see, we've brought our sustenance for the day…"

It was Jacinta that spoke up. "I will not hear of it! We'll have your basket brought inside the house. But you _will_ have lunch with Guillermo and me! If you don't you will hurt my feelings! Besides you haven't lived until you've tasted my _mole_!"

Then her husband piped up. "She is right, Dr. Lecter. Jacinta's _mole_ is the best I've ever tasted and one the many reasons why I married her in the first place!"

Exasperated, Jacinta Ortega slapped her husband's arm. "And here I thought all of the years that you loved my _eyes_!"

"Those too, _mi florecita,_ but it was your cooking that finally won me over."

Smiling, Hannibal made a silent observation. Judging from the man's expanding waistline, Guillermo Ortega was still in love with his wife's cooking.

"Well, my dear lady we cannot be rude to such amiable hosts." Dr. Lecter stated to his companion.

Murasaki nodded in agreement and addressed the married couple, "Mr. and Mrs. Ortega we would _love_ to have lunch with you."

Then she entwined her fingers with Hannibal's as they followed the Ortega's to the main house.


	19. Chapter 19

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Nineteen**

"That was absolutely _delectable_, Mrs. Ortega! Thank you for your wonderful hospitality. I simply must get the recipe for that delightful stew. What was it called again…?"

Hannibal's sincere compliments on the meal made the plump little woman that had prepared it blush with embarrassment. She was truly thrilled that her guests had genuinely enjoyed the authentic Mexican and Spanish dishes that she had slaved over all morning.

"It is called _menudo,_ Dr. Lecter. I will have my housekeeper, Rosita, write it down for you. I must tell you that it is rare thing indeed to see a man, especially one such as yourself, so interested in cooking. The only time I can get Guillermo into the kitchen is when he is trying to sneak an extra helping or two!"

Murasaki tried but failed miserably to stifle a girlish giggle when she heard Mrs. Ortega's remark. Although she and Hannibal had only known the Ortega's for a short time, she already felt as if they were amongst close friends. The good-natured hosts had truly gone out of their way make their young guests feel comfortable as they sat around the table located in the rustically decorated dining room.

"_Mi vida,_ not in front of company! You're _embarrassing_ me!" Exclaimed a very mortified Mr. Ortega.

However, Jacinta chose to ignore her husband's indignant outcry and turned to speak with the young man sitting to her left.

"Dr. Lecter, forgive me for asking you, but you are a man of medicine and I am greatly concerned for my Guillermo. He is _diabetic_, you see. And our family physician has already told him the danger he faces if continues to stuff himself like a _marrano_!"

Hannibal smiled as he gently spoke to his hostess. "Mrs. Ortega, perhaps some changes in his diet will greatly help with his condition. I can jot down some suggestions, if you like."

"_Gracias_, Dr. Lecter. You are most kind!" Mrs. Ortega was practically gushing over Hannibal's charming demeanor. She was quickly drawn in by his good looks and refined mannerisms.

But when she heard her husband suddenly clear his throat, Jacinta's bubble had been burst.

"Forgive me. I've been prattling on like a fool. I'm sure that you and your lovely wife would like to see the grounds now." Mrs. Ortega said apologetically.

"Wife…?" Lady Murasaki began to question, surprised by the inference. But Hannibal immediately interrupted her.

Smiling at the astonished Murasaki, he gave her a quick little wink then turned to face Jacinta. "Yes, you are quite right. My 'wife' and I are very excited to see the estate and perhaps sample some more of your delicious wine."

Guillermo, seemingly anxious to get underway, was the first to rise from the table. "I shall see that your tour starts now. Unfortunately I have to oversee _la vendinia_, you know, the grape harvest today. But my nephew will show you the grounds."

"Your _nephew_?" Hannibal asked. He was a little put off by the fact that the master of the estate would not be accompanying them.

"Yes, he is one that recommended that you visit our vineyard in the first place."

Dr. Lecter was now truly confused. He did remember making a few inquires about the different wineries in the region when he had first arrived at the Napa River Inn. But no one made any overt suggestions except…

"Pardon me for asking, Mr. Ortega, but your nephew wouldn't happen to be _Ramon Marquez_?"

Grinning from ear to ear the obviously proud uncle replied. "Yes, he is! He told us how he was so honored to meet you, Dr. Lecter. Ramon admires you, you know."

Jacinta nodded her head in agreement. "Ramon is my sister's eldest boy and our family's pride and joy. He is the first of us to go to college and now he will be attending U.C.L.A. medical school! I always knew that boy would do great things!"

"Thank God, because I was really starting to worry about him…" Mr. Ortega's voice began to trail off when he saw the vicious glance his wife shot him from across the room.

Guillermo decided it was a good time to excuse himself and go look for his nephew.

Once he had left the dining room, Lady Murasaki mildly asked Mrs. Ortega, "So does he live here, with you?"

Jacinta responded quickly. "Only for the summer, until the fall term starts at the university. Since he got the job at the hotel, Ramon has been staying here. I just don't like the idea of him driving all the way back to Los Angeles every night after work."

"You are very protective of him," Hannibal keenly observed.

"It's just that Ramon was very troubled when he was younger. But now that he is going to school, that is all behind him."

Hannibal's curiosity was certainly peaked. He wanted to further probe Jacinta over the issue of her nephew's past difficulties. But he never got the chance.

An instant later, in walked a very clean-cut looking young man with intense dark eyes, and mocha colored skin. His jet black hair was slicked back with pomade, and he was dressed in a clean pair of dungarees and a blue and white checkered long-sleeved shirt.

His wide fleshy lips immediately parted into a white toothy grin the moment he saw the man he held in such high esteem standing before him.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter." He then bowed to Lady Muraski, "And Madame Lecter, you honor my family with your presence. Thank you both for coming to _San Mateo._"

Hannibal only smiled as he looked on at the outwardly earnest young medical student.

_Well, this is turning out to be a very interesting excursion indeed. I have a few questions for Mr. Marquez, and I don't plan leaving here without my curiosity being satisfied_.

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"And this, Dr. and Mrs. Lecter, is the _bodega_. It's my uncle's private wine cellar where he keeps the most aged of vintages. It's very seldom that that anyone comes down here. But in honor of your visit today, I'm sure that he will make an exception." Ramon's voice echoed off the limestone walls as he and his visitors traveled down a rickety flight of wooden stairs that led them into a deep dark cavern.

Due to the lack of light, Lady Murasaki tried to acclimatize her eyesight. "Hannibal it is pitch black in this place! I cannot see anything in front of me!" she whispered fearfully.

Hannibal swiftly grasped her hand in his and began to guide her down the rest of the way. "Don't worry, my lady. My eyes have grown quite accustomed to the dark. I can see _everything_."

A little shiver of dread raced up Lady Murasaki's spine. She did not want to imagine the countless times Hannibal had lurked in the murky dark shadows of the night, waiting to strike out at his unwary prey.

When Ramon arrived at the bottom of stairs, he quickly reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a large wooden match. Striking it across a barrel slat, he quickly introduced the flickering little flame to the wick of a kerosene lamp which been hanging on the wall.

The damp spacious vault was immediately illuminated in the warm glow from the lamp.

"Ah, that's better. So who wants to be the first to try some of _San Mateo's_ 1925 _Cabernet Sauvignon?_" Ramon asked his guests with a conspiratorial smile as they just reached the bottom of the stairs.

One of Hannibal's eyebrows arched as he asked, "_1925_, Mr. Marquez? Wasn't the United States in the middle of Prohibition Period?"

Ramon, impressed by Dr. Lecter's knowledge, gave his reply. "You know your history. I guess your next question will be how did my family keep producing wine when the rest of the country was forced to make bathtub gin, right?"

"Something like that." Dr. Lecter stated smoothly.

"Well in 1923, my grandfather struck a deal with the Feds by donating a part of his land for the growth of corn and wheat, instead of wine grapes. In return they let him continue to plant and harvest grapes on a half acre of his own land and keep up wine production on a smaller scale. Of course the wine could not be for American consumption, so he started exporting it to Mexico."

Ramon then gave the large wooden barrel next to him a hearty slap as he said, "But that didn't mean the old man didn't keep a couple of barrels of the stuff for himself!"

"I see…enterprising fellow, your grandfather. Tell me did he have to share the profits he made from the sale of the wine to Mexico?" Dr. Lecter inquired.

Ramon shook his head. "No way, the old coot was savvy. He gave the Feds a healthy share of profits from corn and wheat and kept them waist deep in _vino_! Grandfather just played on their hypocrisy."

"So you admire his methods, the way he duped the establishment?" Hannibal dug deeper, intrigued by this young man's apparent dislike of authority.

Ramon flashed him a wide grin. "Hey, anyone that can stick it to those tight asses in Washington is all right with me! How about that wine now, Dr. Lecter?"

The youthful physician nodded and said in a velvety voice, "I would love to sample a glass. I wonder if it will taste better because of its disreputable origins."

Lady Murasaki suddenly spoke. "Hannibal, that was a bit rude of you. I think that you should apologize to Mr. Marquez."

The young man only smiled as he addressed the enchanting woman facing him. "That's okay, Mrs. Lecter. The Doctor was only stating the obvious. Besides, I'm sure that everyone has some skeletons in their closets."

He then gave Hannibal a knowing little wink then said, "Isn't that right Dr. Lecter?"

The inflection of Ramon's voice implied that he was privy to much more than he let on. He knew _something_ about Hannibal, but what was it?

The more time he spent with young medical student, the more Hannibal was convinced that there was more to him than met the eye.

Dr. Lecter decided it was time to start dissecting this young man's mind, to peel back the thin layers of his flimsy disguise and reveal the true Ramon Marquez.

"So tell me, Mr. Marquez. Your aunt mentioned to us that you had some problems when you were younger. I don't mean to meddle, but it is very hard for me to believe that you were in any kind of trouble."

As Ramon reached for two wine glasses from the nearby cabinet, he shrugged. "It was really no big deal. I was just always a curious little boy. Always wanting to know how things were put together, how they worked, you know."

"No, I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me?" Dr. Lecter prodded the young man to further expose himself.

Ramon was now pouring the wine straight from the barrel's spigot into the glasses. When he was done, he closed the spout then held out a glass to each of his guests.

Lady Murasaki carefully took her glass and held it by its stem between her long elegant fingers. Hannibal in turn took his glass. He immediately noticed that Ramon had not poured himself a drink.

"Are you not joining us, Mr. Marquez?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

Ramon shook his head, "No, I usually don't drink…wine. It's just being around the stuff all the time; you kind of develop an aversion to it. But you two go ahead, enjoy."

He watched as his each of his guests raised their glass to their lips. Hannibal brought his glass up to his nostrils so that he could deeply inhale the wine's fragrant bouquet. Afterward, he slowly drank in dark burgundy liquid that greatly reminded the doctor of warm fresh blood.

Dr. Lecter savored the crisp tangy wine, as it swirled around the inside of his mouth, tantalizing his discriminating palate. He almost swooned as he tasted the harmonious balance between the acidity and fruity sweetness. Its flavor was intoxicatingly sumptuous as it seduced Hannibal's senses.

In a word, it was sublime.

Lady Murasaki too had partaken of the wine and was immediately impressed by its sophisticated zest. She never dreamed that a wine produced in the Americas could be far superior to its European counterparts. But it was.

Ramon, who had been watching his guests intently, was anxious to know what they thought of the end result of his grandfather's illegal endeavors.

"Well, Dr. Lecter what do you think?"

The corners of Hannibal's wide mouth curled up slightly, as he smoothly addressed the young man. "It is very full bodied and perhaps the most exotically gratifying wine I've ever encountered.

Ramon beamed with pride at the compliment. However, the smug smile etched on his wide mouth soon diminished when he heard the tone of Hannibal's voice turn chillingly cold.

"But...you still haven't answered my question, Mr. Marquez. What _exactly _did you do that got you into the trouble your aunt spoke of?"

Then, on a turn of a dime, Dr. Lecter's intonations became subdued and somewhat comforting. "You needn't worry about recriminations from us, Ramon. Please, let me assure you that you _are_ amongst friends."

"Hannibal, perhaps it's best not to pry…" Lady Murasaki said tentatively. There was something in the young man's eyes that was hauntingly familiar and it disturbed her greatly. Her protests however died in her throat when she felt the firm squeeze of her beloved's hand on hers.

Ramon offered the beautiful woman standing before him a poor imitation of a charming smirk. It only managed to chill her to the bone. There was no warmth in that smile, only an eerily recognizable animalistic quality that she knew only too well.

It was at that moment that Lady Murasaki knew that Ramon Marquez was severely detached from humanity. Knowing that she was in the presence of a compassionless being filled her with dread.

The young Chicano then looked at the man whose respect he wished to garner with cautious eyes. He quickly deduced from Dr. Lecter's serene expression that what he had said was true, Ramon would not be judged for what he was about to reveal.

Moreover, it all happened so long ago. Why would anyone care now, especially someone like Dr. Lecter?

Shrugging his shoulders with casual indifference, Ramon stepped closer to his guests. He then shoved his hands in his pockets, as he gazed up at the much taller physician with a shy little smile.

To Lady Murasaki Ramon looked like a lost little boy, much like Hannibal had once been.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, it wouldn't hurt to tell you. Besides, it's all in the past. I guess having a high powered lawyer on my aunt's payroll didn't hurt either."

Lady Murasaki was instantly repulsed when she saw Ramon give Hannibal a deliberate wink. The parallels between the two men were becoming more and more apparent to her and this frightened the lady beyond belief.

As for Hannibal, he was intrigued by possibilities of the young man's story. And he wanted to hear the rest of it.

_An attorney was involved…how interesting._

"Don't stop now, Mr. Marquez. You have our full attention. Please, do go on." Dr. Lecter's voice was distressingly hypnotic as it insulated its intended victim within a cocoon of counterfeit security. Like a famished spider, with its fangs dripping with venom, he lulled his prey with the sound of his voice before he went in for the kill.

Lady Murasaki was both horrified and fascinated to watch at how easily her Hannibal could manipulate anyone with just a turn of a phrase.

Then, right on cue, the young man continued his sordid tale, much to Hannibal's delight and Murasaki's woe.

Ramon's dark eyes were now glazed over as if in a trance as he recounted his less than stellar past. "When I was about 13, I was accused of torturing and mutilating several of the neighbors' dogs around the _barrio._ _Filthy mongrels_, they deserved it!"

When he heard Lady Murasaki gasp in horror, he quickly snapped out of his stupor and stared hard at her. "B-but I didn't do it! You've gotta believe me! The neighbors all thought I was weird though, because I always liked taking things apart. You know, frogs, lizards, those sorts of things. I'd cut them open and see their insides. But I only did it out of scientific curiosity!"

"Of course you did, Mr. Marquez…but the dogs were not the _real_ reason your family had to hire the lawyer is it?" Hannibal said encouragingly.

After a very uncomfortable pause, Ramon finally uttered, "No. It wasn't."

"Please explain it to me. What really happened, Ramon? And be _truthful_, because I'll know when you're lying."

"Hannibal, please leave the boy be. It was obviously a very painful time in his life." Lady Murasaki tried but failed miserably to restore some semblance of normality to this macabre conversation.

Suddenly, she felt the limestone walls of the cavernous wine cellar start to close in on her. And she was actually fighting for her next breath, as a sickly malaise seeped slowly into her consciousness.

The pitch in Ramon's inflections was unnerving, turning Lady Murasaki's blood cold. "That's okay, Mrs. Lecter. I don't mind. I _want _you know what happened. So that you will understand what I'm all about…"

Hannibal said nothing, but his bejeweled eyes stared at Ramon, silently coaxing the story out of him.

With a heavy sigh, Ramon brought his account to its harrowing conclusion. "Later that same year there was incident at my school…a boy had been found in the boy's lavatory, murdered, his head had been completely severed from his body."

"Oh my dear God in heaven!" Lady Murasaki struggled for breath. She wheezed for air as her knees buckled. If it hadn't been for Hannibal's strong grip on her, the lady would have slipped onto the hard cold floor.

Hannibal, however found this detail to be quite fascinating. "Who was it, a classmate of yours? Someone that beat you up for your lunch money, or perhaps made you perform unspeakable acts on his urine soaked private parts during recess? Tell me, Ramon who was the boy?"

Ramon's Marquez's face abruptly twisted up with rage. Hannibal had definitely struck a nerve. "_Fat fucker_, that Jimmy Evans deserved to die! After what he did to me, shoving his slimy cock into my mouth while all his friends all held me down!"

Hannibal was savoring each detail as he had the wine. "So you killed him out of revenge for violating you, did you not?"

But Ramon shook his head violently in vehement denial. "NO! I didn't kill him. I wish I had but I didn't! And as much as that bastard D.A. wanted to pin it on me, he couldn't prove a thing! Not a thing! Besides, no murder weapon, no case!"

"There, there Mr. Marquez. No need to get excited. I understand _exactly_ what you went through. How horrible it must have been for you to be labeled a killer when you did not deserve it."

"Yeah, that's right! I didn't! And _you_ didn't either, Dr. Lecter…"

Hannibal was slightly taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"I know all about you Doctor, about your troubles before you came to the States. I've followed your career every step of the way. I _admire _you, Doctor. And hope one day to be just as skilled with a scalpel as you are."

At last Hannibal understood. He was looking upon a kindred spirit, someone who soul and mind was just as warped as his.

And despite his refutations, Dr. Lecter knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ramon Marquez was predator, a killer just like him.

_How wonderfully delightful_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Sorry for the long delay, my dears. Problems with my DSL connection contributed to the wait. But I'm back and so is this story!

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty**

Lady Murasaki could now feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A disquieting awareness slowed crept up the length of her spine as she witnessed the unspoken reverence between Hannibal and Ramon.

As they silently regarded one another, the Japanese heiress could definitely see a kinship, a morbid connection that would irrevocably link these two omens of death.

_They are two of kind._

_Predatory voracious monsters that have preyed on the weak and unwary, not because they want to, but because __**HAVE**__ to. They are driven by their inner demons to slaughter everyone that threatens them. It is in their nature to kill, to devour and destroy everything in their path until there is nothing left except…each other._

_And then what, do they turn on one another? Will they tear at the other's flesh, ripping it right off the bone with their bare hands in a frenzied clash for supremacy? _

_As in the animal kingdom, there can only be one dominate marauder. How long would it take for Ramon to try to extinguish Hannibal after he's learned all he can from him, thus eliminating his competition? _

_Hannibal is in danger. __**WE**__ are in danger and we need to get out of this place, __**NOW**_

The lady drew closer to her love and captured his waist within her protective embrace.

"Hannibal," she said calmly. "I think we should leave, _now_. It is getting late and I would like to return to the hotel before nightfall."

Not taking his eyes off Ramon, Dr. Lecter conceded to his lady's wishes. "You're quite right, my love. We really should be getting back."

Ramon gave his guests a self-assured smirk. "Leaving so soon? I hope it was nothing I said."

Hannibal, charming as ever, reassured his young host to the contrary. "Not at all, Mr. Marquez, you have been most gracious. But the lady is tired and is still recovering from last night's harrowing ordeal. She undoubtedly needs to rest."

The unnatural intermittent glint in Ramon's dark eyes as he silkily addressed Hannibal unnerved Murasaki to her very core.

"Ah, yes the Popil murder. Strange, isn't, that the very member he tried to violate Mrs. Lecter with was sliced off, testicles and all. The way I see it, what happened was _poetic justice_. Don't you think so, Dr. Lecter?"

Upon hearing Ramon's disgusting recounting of the facts, Hannibal immediately looked upon the face of his beloved. As expected, her already pale face had blanched even further and she appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

Furious beyond reason, the youthful physician turned his hate-filled maroon eyes back to glower at the smug countenance of Ramon Marquez.

_Bastard! How could you?!_ Hannibal's mind raged.

He had taken extra precautions to spare his aunt from knowing the more ghastly details of Popil's demise. Murasaki had been in such a delicate state, Lecter felt it would serve no purpose to tell her how her former friend had died.

In Hannibal's eyes she had been through enough. But now that Ramon had revealed the awful truth, his heart broke over her suffering once more.

Lady Murasaki began to softly sob as her mind tried to make sense of it all. Tears of sorrow slipped down the slopes of her cheeks as Hannibal did his best to comfort her. Murasaki surrendered to his warm embrace, yielding her small slender frame against Hannibal's lean body for support. The doctor, meanwhile, continued to stare daggers at the young man that had been the cause of her current distress.

_You have injured my lady, Ramon Marquez, and greatly offended me. And for this insult you __**will**__ pay…exceedingly so! _

"Come, milady. We've taken advantage of Mr. Marquez's amiable hospitality." Hannibal then reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a neatly pressed monogrammed handkerchief. But not before assuring himself that his trusty 15 blade scalpel was still tucked away in its hiding place. Next he gently, lovingly wiped away Lady Murasaki's tears.

Afterward, Dr. Lecter turned to face Ramon and stated flatly. "What's more, I'm sure that you have better things to do with your time than to play tour guide to a couple of weary travelers."

As if to mock them, Ramon bowed before the Lithuanian nobleman and his lady. He then tilted his face up to look at the couple and began to speak in a supercilious tone that Hannibal found most discordant.

"Allow me, your humble servant, to show you out then."

Wishing not to take his cold murderous gaze off the young man, even for an instant, Dr. Hannibal Lecter insisted that Ramon Marquez lead the way out of the wine cellar.

lllll

The ride back to the Napa River Inn was long and silent as the sun began its slow steady descent behind the westward hills. And as for Lady Murasaki, she took little comfort in holding onto her Hannibal as she sat behind him on the motorbike.

All of the enthusiasm and hopefulness that had greeted her that morning had been cruelly dashed by the reality of her situation.

It was time she faced the cold hard truth. She was in love with a killer.

It was actually bearing witness to the extent of the evil that dwelled inside her nephew that had finally jarred her out of her lovesick state.

Murasaki now knew that no matter where they went in the world, there would be no escaping what Hannibal truly was. They would constantly live in the humongous shadow of his rapacious appetite and the dangerous consequences of his actions.

Lady Murasaki was only deluding herself. She was not strong enough to withstand penalty for loving such a man. And there was only one thing left to do.

No recriminations, no tearful goodbyes.

She had return to France immediately. And never look back.

lllll

Later on that night, when they were finally alone in their shared suite Hannibal sensed that something was terribly wrong with his lady.

Her quiet disposition throughout dinner had troubled him greatly. And yet, he did not wish to intrude into her private contemplations. His aunt had been through so much turmoil and Hannibal had no desire to stress her further.

Nevertheless, as the evening wore on, the more distressing her silence became. _Something_ was weighing heavily on the mind of his adored lady. The knowledge of that fact only steeled Dr. Hannibal Lecter's determination to get to the crux of the matter.

As he sat across from her at the dinner table, Hannibal couldn't help admire the way the flickering candlelight highlighted her delicate Asian features. His lady now wore a flimsy dress of fawn colored lace with thin straps adorning her milky white shoulders. And the crowing glory of her raven mane, silky and fragrant, fell straight down her back. In this setting, she appeared so young and innocent.

And to Hannibal, she was still the most striking creature he had ever set his eyes upon.

Aside from her great beauty, Dr. Lecter also admired this woman for her indomitable perseverance. Lady Murasaki had possessed the heart of a warrior in times of great adversity. It was that unconquerable spirit that had endeared her all the more to him.

Hannibal smiled as he remembered fondly that as a child he had looked to her for the strength and guidance that the rest of the world had denied him.

But as he looked upon her now, there was no trace of that fortitude she was known for. There was only a tragic fragility, which made her appear small, defenseless, and vanquished.

Seeing his lady in such a state tore Hannibal's dark heart in two.

Ever so gently Hannibal laid one of his skilled surgeon's hands on Lady Murasaki's fine delicate one.

Softly he whispered to her. "A penny for your thoughts, milady? Forgive the intrusion, my love, but you seem so far away from me."

Murasaki willed herself not to look directly at Hannibal. She couldn't. Instead, she focused her gaze onto the dancing flames of the candelabra that graced the center of the table.

Feelings of self-recrimination and guilt tore away at her heart. Murasaki knew that what she had to say would cause Hannibal great pain. And she also knew that she could not bear to see the aggrieved expression on the angelic face she loved so dearly.

Still, whatever was happening between them needed to end, now, for both their sakes. It was within Lady Murasaki power to stop it, before it got any further.

Withdrawing her hand slowly away from his, she laid it carefully in her lap. Sighing deeply, Murasaki kept staring at the shimmering candlelight as if transfixed by it somehow. When she finally opened her mouth to speak; she tried to keep her voice even and unfaltering.

"Hannibal, there is no easy way to say this…so I am going to come right out with it. Tomorrow, I will be making arrangements to return to Paris. _Alone_."

His lady's words immediately and cruelly crushed his heart upon hearing them. Hannibal's response, however did not betray the agony he was feeling.

"And when was this decided, milady?" he asked smoothly.

Another tired sigh, then she replied. "On the way back from the vineyard, not that it matters."

"Oh my lady, but it does…it matters a great deal. This…decision of yours was made in haste and I believe I know why."

"Hannibal…please, I beg you. Don't make this harder than it has to be." Lady Murasaki felt herself on the verge of tears despite her best efforts to remain resolute in her decision.

"Very well then…I see now that I cannot dissuade you from your choice, as _misguided_ as I think it might be. I only have one final question, if you will permit me to ask you, milady."

"And what is your query, Hannibal?" she inquired wearily.

Lady Murasaki could feel the intense glare from those blood red eyes. Hannibal was daring her to look him, but she was truly terrified. All would be lost in just one glance, she was sure of it.

But after some time she allowed herself to tear her glistening eyes away from the mellow glow from the candles' illumination to gaze upon the face of her fallen angel.

He was so beautiful, so perfect, that it was hard to believe that he was actually capable of murder. But she knew all too well that he had maimed and killed in the name of vengeance.

His handsome face was expressionless, betraying no emotion whatsoever when Hannibal spoke at last.

"Do you love me?" His question had been simple and direct to the point, sharply piercing through her defenses like a knife.

It was so unexpected that Murasaki was forced to turn her gaze upon him. Her dark questioning eyes began to frantically search his for any hint of malicious intent.

But in the end she found none, and almost immediately the lady felt the resolve to leave him slipping away.

When Lady Murasaki hesitated to give her answer, Hannibal repeated the question.

"Do you love me?"

Her response came as an almost non-coherent ramble, as she attempted to rationalize her reasons for ending their relationship.

"It's complicated, Hannibal. You don't seem to realize the ramifications we would face if you and I were to pursue this! It's wrong on so many levels, that I couldn't even begin to list all…"

Leaning across the table, Hannibal calmly but firmly interrupted Lady Murasaki by asking the question again.

"Do…you…love…me? The answer should be easier than you think, milady. A simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice. So I ask you once more: _do you love_ _me_?"

He was methodically and systematically plaguing her with his gentle insistence. She was almost certain that Hannibal would be perfectly content to continue his current line of questioning, all night if necessary, until he had the answer he so desperately required.

For a second time in the evening, he encountered her stony silence which managed to increase his frustration.

However, Hannibal would not give up on his lady, not yet. He knew that she was only reacting out of fear. Learning of Popil's terrible fate coupled with the disclosure of Ramon's homicidal tendencies had only managed highlight his own. And that is what was terrifying her, the undeniable truth that he too was a heinous fiend.

He could hardly blame her. What kind of life could he possibly offer her when he was a slave to his monstrous proclivities? There would always be the risk of exposure or capture, no matter how carefully he tried to conceal his crimes.

What then? Would he subject his lady to visit him through the bars of a prison cell? Or worst still, watch him be put to death at the hands of the state's executioner?

In that case what was the alternative? Hannibal did not relish a life on the run, always living in fear and constantly looking over their shoulders either.

When he allowed himself to analyze the situation from Murasaki's perspective, it all seemed so hopeless.

However, the thought of what his life would be like without her in it only strengthened his determination to salvage their love.

True, Hannibal was the most depraved of killers, but he could never bring himself to harm those he loved. And there was no doubt that he completely and emphatically loved Lady Murasaki. There had to be a way to reassure her that he would never hurt her, _ever_.

Slowly, Lecter rose from his chair as his eyes stayed riveted on his lady's lovely face. There was so much uncertainty in her eyes, so much sadness as she watched him carefully approach her.

When he had finally drawn near, Hannibal immediately and reverently fell to one knee, genuflecting before her as his hands sought hers out.

As his warm fingers slid over hers, Lady Murasaki started to tremble all over.

Was it fear, excitement? Or perhaps it was a little of both.

Lady Murasaki dared not move a muscle or even breathe, afraid that whatever she did, it would force her to inevitably answer Hannibal's persistent question.

Then suddenly her worst fears were realized when he asked her one final time.

"Do you love me, Murasaki?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Okay kiddos. This is IT! After weeks of waiting…the LOVE SCENE!

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty One**

Like a dam that had unexpectedly burst, a torrent of warm salty tears sprung forth from her eyes. She could not deny the truth of her feelings any longer, nor could she continue to conceal them from the object her affections.

"Yes, Hannibal, a thousand times yes. I do love you, but…"

Her protests were swiftly silenced when Hannibal possessively took her face between his large hands and then hungrily he touched his lips to hers. From the moment their mouths made contact desire quickly took over as all rationale was summarily forgotten. All that mattered was the ferocious craving that was setting Murasaki's entire being ablaze.

Murasaki's lips soon parted, granting Hannibal permission to explore the sweetness of her hot wet mouth with his long probing tongue. The feel of Hannibal's demanding kisses caused the love-starved woman to groan with want. She immediately threaded her long slim fingers through the silky strands of his dark hair, pulling his face closer to hers in the process.

She wanted him so badly, so desperately.

As the kiss between them deepened and intensified, Hannibal's hands began to caress the pale perfection of her face, next his fingers slowly slid down to down to the curve of her exposed shoulders, soon after they traveled down further until they finally rested at the slope of her lace covered bosom.

With his lips still devouring hers, Hannibal immediately and firmly cupped each breast within his hands, kneading the sensitive flesh through Lady Murasaki's clothing until he could feel her nipples pucker and harden against his touch.

Still cradling his head within her hands, Murasaki felt she was slowly going out of her mind as she arched her back so that Hannibal could feel the heavy swell of her heaving cleavage. It had been so long since she had physical intimate contact with anyone and now it seemed she couldn't to get enough.

Lady Murasaki would not be content until she felt Hannibal's warm groping hands on her naked flesh. She needed to touched, _everywhere_. She wanted to feel his fingers, his mouth and his wet tongue on every inch of her aching body.

And when his mouth finally relinquished hers so that he could pay homage to her neck, the lady voiced her desires.

"Hannibal," she panted hotly into his ear as his lips grazed her neckline and bosom.

"Yes, milady?" he whispered back before his teeth playfully latched onto the outline of a nipple protruding through the bodice of her dress. His hands had already glided down the length of her torso. Hannibal's well groomed fingers were now underneath the hem of her dress and sliding up the insides of her creamy white thighs.

Lady Murasaki's eyes, glazed over with lust, fluttered closed as a sigh of deep longing escaped from her moist lips. Hannibal's touch was maddening as it awakened a passion that had been dormant within her for too long.

"I want you, my love," she whispered heatedly. Then she hissed between her clenched teeth when she felt one of Hannibal's fingers deftly move the crotch of her underwear aside so that he could plunder the slippery folds of her sex. She groaned loudly, wantonly as her thighs parted to offer him further access to her heated core.

When he slipped the first digit inside, he gasped with pleasant surprise.

"You're so wet, _mon amour_!" Hannibal murmured against the flesh of her throat. As he continued to lick and suck at her neck, he carefully began to thrust his finger in and out of Lady's Murasaki's tight sheath with rhythmic precision.

The pleasure that her beloved was giving her was beyond anything she could have imagined. But she had been denied for this so long and Murasaki wanted Hannibal to stimulate her further.

With her eyes still closed, throatily she rasped, "More, Hannibal. I want more!"

Happily her eager young lover complied with her unabashed request by sliding in two more fingers as he rolled the pad of his thumb over her swollen clitoris. Once again he thrust his rigid digits deeply inside of her as he massaged the engorged little nub with his thumb.

Without delay Murasaki's head fell back as her long dark hair cascaded down the rear of the chair. She spread her legs wider as her hands left the softness of Hannibal's hair to grip the arms of her seat.

Soft little mewing sounds filled the air as Hannibal took his time in pleasuring his lady. But he knew that if he continued to stimulate her in this fashion he would bring about her orgasm very soon.

And that would not do…oh no. Hannibal wanted to be buried deep inside of her when their mutual passions were finally spent. Or at the very least savor the juices that were now flowing freely from her tight slit.

So, despite the grunt of protest from his lady, Hannibal decided to slowly withdraw his hand away from her dripping wet flesh.

"No, don't stop now!" Murasaki moaned loudly. She was wriggling her ass on the chair's cushion, like a fidgeting child, fretting over the loss of the delicious friction her lover's hand was producing.

Vaguely amused by her current predicament, Hannibal leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Stand up, my love. I want to undress you. You may do the same to me if you like."

Was he insane? Murasaki wanted to rip the clothes right off of Hannibal's body. Her need was that great, that urgent.

Her eyes flew open and promptly she obeyed his command. Lady Murasaki lifted herself out of the chair and was on her feet. She stood in front of a very smug looking Hannibal, waiting for something to happen.

However, he made no move to lay a hand on her, and Murasaki's impatience mounted with each passing second. He just stared hard at her, appraising Lady Murasaki, sizing her up. But for the love of God, what? Was he mocking her perhaps? More than likely he was amused by the weakness of her flesh.

Her cheeks began to burn hotly as the sting of humiliation gave her a dose of cold hard reality. Murasaki was being foolish to think that someone as young and as beautiful as Hannibal Lecter would want her.

But just as she was about to hang her head down in shame, her love fast approached her.

"What is wrong, milady?" he asked with concern.

Tears stung her eyes as she stammered out a weak response.

"I-I thought you didn't want me, that you were …"

Hannibal's response was husky whisper. "Nonsense, my love, how could you possibly think such a thing! Come, give me your hand, _feel_ the extent of my desire for you."

Eyes as red as blood, were now burning brightly as they bore intensely into Murasaki's. Firmly, he took her hand in his and laid it upon the throbbing bulge of his crotch.

Instinctively, Lady Murasaki began to move her hand up and down the front of his trousers, caressing the erection that was aching for release. Her ministrations, tentative at first, became more bold and demanding which caused Hannibal to growl in approval.

Drunk with lust, Hannibal suddenly seized her exquisite face between his hands as he rasped. "Can you feel how much I want you, my love? I've _hungered_ for you, waited for this moment. Please, I beg you. Don't keep me waiting any longer."

And before she could voice her consent Hannibal covered her quivering lips with his mouth and kissed her hard. His lips, tongue and teeth worked furiously as he devoured his lady passionately.

Murasaki in turn slid her hands up his lean torso then began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. But due to her trembling fingers, she was unable to carry out the task. In a fit of frustration and unbridled fervor, she firmly grasped the front of Hannibal's shirt then savagely tore it open. Pearl buttons, like tiny guided missiles, were sent flying throughout the room as the once expensive garment was rendered a worthless rag in a matter of seconds.

But Lady Murasaki didn't care. Her physical needs cancelled out all rationale thought, all she knew was the ache of her loins and her desire for the man standing in front of her.

Hannibal was shrugging out of his ruined shirt, exposing his lean upper body to his lady's hungry eyes. Not able to contain herself, she immediately ran her hands across the expanse of his hairless chest, tweaking the flat round disks of his nipples as she went until they became sensitive and stiff.

When she replaced her fingers with her mouth, Hannibal cried out with pleasure as he arched his back. Murasaki sucked and licked at his skin wildly, frantically, as her fingernails grazed his rock hard abdomen. Hannibal began to breathe in shallowly as the flames of lust slowly and steadily consumed him. Sinking his fingers into her hair he yanked his lady away from his torso, mindful not to hurt her, so that he can kiss the mouth that had been worshipping his flesh.

Except when she suddenly pulled away from him, he was puzzled.

"Is something the matter, my love? Have I done something to offend you?" Hannibal asked worriedly.

She responded with a smirk. "I'm still dressed, Hannibal. Undress me."

He smiled back. "As you wish, milady, I am a slave to your whims."

However when he commenced to carefully remove the straps of her dress off her shoulders, Murasaki said impatiently, "Just _rip_ the bloody thing off of me!"

When she saw the hesitation in his maroon eyes, she commanded sharply. "Do it, Hannibal, NOW!"

It was at this juncture that Hannibal Lecter wholly gave into his lust, allowing his feelings to dictate his actions. Unrestrained, he violently ripped the delicate lace fabric with his bare hands, revealing the firm twin mounds of her breasts.

As he continued to tear away the dress from away from her body, Hannibal's greedy mouth quickly latched itself onto a hardened dark nipple. Murasaki groaned as her Hannibal suckled one breast hungrily and then he lavished the same attention on the other. She could feel her nether regions become incredibly moist as her arousal intensified.

This was bliss, perfection, love, with Hannibal and no other. Not even Robert.

And she never wanted it to end.

Hannibal had finally succeeded in completely removing the tattered dress and she was now naked before him, save the thin lacey panties that adorned her lower regions.

He quickly bent down in front of Murasaki until he was eye level with her pelvis. His nostrils flared and a groan of animalistic desire formed deep in his throat when he caught a whiff of her musky scent.

Looking down at the top of his head, Murasaki whispered, "What are you going to do?"

Smiling up at her with a mischievous grin Lecter stated as-a-matter-of-factly, "I'm going to remove your pretty little panties with my teeth. And then I'm going to taste you."

"Oh God," was all she could manage to say when Hannibal did precisely that.

Deftly he latched his pearly white teeth to the lacey undergarment and began to pull it down her pallid thighs. When he had accomplished his pleasurable task, he quickly bestowed her shivering flesh a flurry of light little kisses from his pouty lips. The sensation of his soft wet mouth on her skin was driving Lady Murasaki's to a delicious state of delirium.

She could no longer rationalize, nor did she want to. All she wanted to do was to prolong this experience of joy, suspend this moment for all time and forget about everything else.

Lady Murasaki wondered. _How could someone that has been Death's messenger make me feel so alive, so free? _

She continued to ponder over this phenomenon as Hannibal kissed his way up her legs, her stomach and breasts.

_He has taken the lives of others and yet he's managed to restore mine in an instant_.

When Hannibal was finally face to face with his lady again, he reached out and wrapped his right arm firmly around her tiny waist, while his left unexpectedly swiped at the remains of their half eaten dinner, leaving one side of the long mahogany wood table bare, in a single bold move.

Next Hannibal whirled his lady around then laid her down gently onto the hard wood surface. Looming over her, he drank her pale perfection with his the intensity of his gaze. Hannibal marveled over Murasaki's exotic beauty. She was like a rare wild flower that he longed to pluck and claim for his very own.

Once again he lowered his face to hers and began to kiss her lips as they resumed their dance of possession and submission. His kisses elicited groans of pleasure from the lady as she surrendered everything that she was to him.

His wet hot mouth scorched her skin as Hannibal blazed a trail down her neck, bosom and belly. His hands caressed and stroked every inch of her supple body in almost a reverent manner. Hannibal venerated her naked form with almost religious devotion.

Murasaki returned the favor as she ran her small hands down his bare back, reveling in the feel of the rippling muscles underneath his tender flesh.

"I love you." She whispered.

Hannibal's face was now hovering above her pelvic area. With one hand on her hip he used the other to gently part her thighs. When at last he beheld the splendor of her glistening femininity, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was immediately awestruck and humbled.

Hannibal's voice was throaty as a wave of yearning engulfed him. "And I _adore_ you, milady. Please allow me to show you how much."

Murasaki held her breath. She knew exactly what Hannibal intended to do to her. But he would not commence without her express permission.

So she gave it, implicitly. "Please, Hannibal. Do it."

He ran a single finger up and down the length of her slit as he said coyly. "And what is it, my dear that you wish me to do? I cannot presume what you want. You must _tell _me."

The touch of that lone finger was sending her to the brink of insanity as it continued to probe and stroke her wet vagina.

When Murasaki could stand Hannibal's teasing no longer, she groaned out her shameless demand. "I want you to put your mouth on me. Suck me and lick me until I scream your name! That's what I want!"

Hannibal smiled. "Very well, milady, your wish is my command."

Then without any further postponement, Hannibal Lecter lowered his face, burying it between Lady Murasaki's thighs. His tongue, like a serpent's quickly flicked out from between his lips. Then with long even strokes, he began to lap up her secretions, licking the entire length of her pussy with gusto.

Murasaki's thighs began to quake. Roughly, she ran her hands over her breasts, pushing them together and pinching her erect nipples between her fingers while Hannibal orally pleasured her.

His long pointed tongue dove in and out of her opening as his fingers probed and explored. Murasaki sighed happily when at last he had attached his warm soft mouth onto the tiny sensitive bundle of nerves and began to suck on it for all he was worth. The suction Hannibal was applying sent shockwaves delight throughout her entire being. Panting wildly, her toes curled as Hannibal alternated from sucking to licking at her throbbing clitoris

With each hot swipe of his tongue, her body became more rigid and tense, aching for release from this sweet torment. Arching her back off the surface of the table, Lady Murasaki moaned loudly, unashamed of anything. Her hands suddenly reached down, grabbed the sides of her lover's head and pushed his face further into her center.

She was so close now, Hannibal could feel it. So he decided to work his lips and tongue faster, relentlessly assaulting Murasaki's throbbing femininity over and over again with focused determination.

And very soon Hannibal Lecter was rewarded for his laborious efforts when he felt the powerful orgasmic spasms from her vaginal center burst into his mouth, as shockwaves of pleasure radiated outward to the rest of her body.

Murasaki's legs shook uncontrollably as she cried out, "Hannibal, oh, Hannibal!"

She suddenly had the heightened sensation of being caught up in the wonder and frightening power of a tempestuous storm. Her hands desperately gripped the sides of the table, holding on for dear life as Lady Murasaki rode out the most powerful climax of her entire existence.

And when his lady's ecstasy began to subside, Lecter lifted his head from between her thighs. His mouth was incredibly moist, his lips glistening with the remains of Murasaki's sweet essence. Now that his lady had been properly serviced, it was time to quell the voracious demons his rampant need.

Hannibal quickly stood up to remove his trousers. Lady Murasaki watched with glazed over eyes as her lover moved gracefully yet deftly to discard what was left of his clothes.

Before long she was staring at the most perfect nude male form she had ever seen. Beautiful and youthful and evocative of Michael Angelo's statue of David, Hannibal's body was a sculptor's dream.

She gasped when her eyes fell upon his impressive manhood. Hannibal's male organ was a sight to behold. It was long, its circumference wide and thick topped off with a round bulbous head that Murasaki wouldn't mind running her tongue over.

Lady Murasaki's mind soon filled with wicked thoughts as her heart beat faster in anticipation of what was to come.

_Indeed, little Hannibal is all grown up_. _And there is nothing 'little' about him!_

Licking her lips, she managed to croak out a hoarse demand. "Inside, my love, I want you inside of me!"

With a roguish smile he roughly gripped her hips and pulled her down until her bottom half was suspended off the table's edge. Making sure to keep a firm hold on his lady, Hannibal looked down at her and whispered, "Are certain you want me to take you? Because if I do, there will be no turning back, milady. I will be bound to you, _always_."

Returning his gaze with the same fiery intensity, she whispered back, "I am certain, Hannibal. You are what I want, more than anything else in the world. Take me, my love, I'm yours."

Hannibal was absolutely undone by her declaration and submission. Still standing on the carpeted floor, he drew his hips back he prepared to enter his love swiftly. He then rocked his pelvis forward, penetrating his lady, completely filling her with his unyielding girth.

His mind exploded as he found himself enveloped in her velvet walls.

_Oh my dear God, she is so tight, so hot!_

Murasaki bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. But when Hannibal began to move forward with steady thrusts, a primal, ferocious scream escaped from her wide open mouth.

She was so loud that Hannibal was almost certain that the neighboring guest might have heard her. But at this point neither he nor Murasaki gave a good goddamn.

"Oh yes, Hannibal. Don't stop!" Whimpering, tears of joy stung her eyes as her sharp fingernails violently clawed at his back, drawing first blood.

Hannibal hissed through the pain, he actually welcomed it. The discomfort only increased his excitement and made him want to fuck her harder, deeper, faster.

In and out he went, plunging further and further into the recesses of tight vagina in a steady rhythm as old as time itself.

"Oh, my love!" he groaned. "You feel so good! I love you so much!"

Afterward, he felt her vaginal walls expand and contract tightly around his engorged penis. And he knew that a second climax would soon possess his lady. The advent of his own release was close at hand as he felt the familiar upsurge tingle his testicles. Then the prickling sensation moved up from the base of his penis to tip of the sensitive head.

Looking down at Murasaki, he could see that her pale flesh was flushed and glistening with the sheen of light perspiration. Her hair, fanned out on the surface of the table, was like a dark halo around her head.

He tried his best to hold back his own orgasm to allow his lady to reach fulfillment first, but it was beyond his control. When he felt the sudden rush of semen leave his body, Hannibal grunted like a wild boar as he frantically pumped his pelvis into Murasaki's yielding flesh.

She soon followed him into the abyss of ecstasy when her contractions clamped down on his throbbing member. Again Lady Murasaki cried out, but this time her expressions of joy were muffled when Hannibal suddenly crushed his mouth to hers.

He held her tightly against him, their mouths joined, bodies trembling, powerless to stop the onslaught of mutual gratification.

In the aftermath, slowly the quaking subsided. Spent but happy, Hannibal tore away his mouth from Lady Murasaki's and collapsed rather unceremoniously onto her body. He kissed and licked the side of her face, relishing the salty taste of her sweat on his tongue while she held him tightly.

When his breathing finally returned to normal levels, Hannibal placed his hands the table and rose up from the crook of Murasaki's neck to gaze lovingly at her.

Still buried to the hilt inside her sheath, Hannibal Lecter whispered softly, "I love you, milady, now and always."

Placing her hand on the side of her beloved's face; Lady Mursaki ran her thumb across the scar that graced his left cheek.

"And I love you, Hannibal. God help me, but I do."


	22. Chapter 22

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Well my friends, after a long hiatus, I'm back to bring a conclusion to this harrowing tale. Have no fear there are still a few chapters to go before we reach the end…

Lexicon, your French is better than most. _Merci mon ami!_

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"_Bon jour, mon amour. _I hope I didn't wake you."

Lady Murasaki, lying face down on a mound of pillows, smiled sleepily upon hearing Hannibal's early morning greeting. He had already drawn back the curtains which allowed the brilliance from the sun to filter in and illuminate the room. The lady groaned loudly as she squinted her eyes to shield them from the luminous intrusion.

Still quite tired from last night's amorous romp, her body tingled all over as she recalled the rapturous lovemaking that she and Hannibal had experienced over and over again.

The man had been insatiable, as she had been. Murasaki and Hannibal had insulated themselves from the outside world, allowing nothing to interfere with their mutual lust. All that had mattered to her was the way his mouth had greedily devoured her skin, the touch of his well-trained fingers, and the sensation of his manhood penetrating and probing every orifice she had to offer.

A sigh of complete contentment emanated from her as she stretched her body with feline grace.

Meanwhile, Hannibal quietly stood by the bed they had eventually fallen into last night, exhausted but deliriously happy. As his dark maroon eyes lovingly stared down at his languishing lady, he heaved a sigh at the sight of her bare back. Her skin was so perfect, so pale that he longed to touch it once more. Reaching out with his right hand, he allowed his long fingers to gently trace the length of the indentation of her spine.

"Mmmm, Hannibal," she purred sensuously as her lover's touch caused her to stir. Rolling onto her side to face him, Murasaki was quite shocked to find that her new lover was now fully dressed and ready to face the day.

She suddenly felt very self-conscious of her own disheveled state. Aside from a few unavoidable circumstances, the proud lady never allowed herself to appear unkempt.

"I must look dreadful!" Murasaki fretted.

As she raised her arms so that her hands could smooth out her wild hair, the bed sheet that had been covering her nude form quickly fell away.

The moment Hannibal's eyes beheld the tantalizing view before him, he gave the lady a salacious smile of appreciation. Gracefully, he sat down on the bed next to her.

Hannibal murmured lovingly, "Nonsense, milady, to me you've never looked more beautiful."

Then, in the next instant, Lady Murasaki found herself ensnared within Hannibal Lecter's possessive embrace. Just as hastily, Lady Murasaki wrapped her hungry arms around Hannibal as she pressed her warm, naked body against his clothed one.

She couldn't help gasping a little. Murasaki was astounded by the almost ferocious nature of his affections. Nonetheless, the Japanese heiress sighed happily as she submitted to his will. Her eyes fluttered closed as Hannibal slowly leaned his face into hers so that he could capture her mouth with his own.

Dauntingly, his lips, teeth and tongue summarily devoured hers. Hannibal reveled in the taste of their conjoined mouths as their tongues clashed and their lips moved in unison. His ears discerned her little groans as her lust was roused once more.

Without delay, his hand cupped the heavy swell of a bare breast. He moaned against her mouth as he enjoyed the feel and weight of her bosom in the palm of his hand. Next, Hannibal's fingers gently applied pressure to the tender flesh as he ran the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nipple. Very soon it was taut and stiff thanks to his talented ministrations.

Murasaki, whose body was already smoldering with desire, tried to deepen the kiss. Disappointingly the interlude was cut short. As her eyes snapped open, a small groan of displeasure escaped past her swollen lips when she sensed the warmth of Hannibal's touch and the moistness of his mouth slowly departing from her. However, when she saw a minuscule flash of mischief dancing in the maroon depths of his eyes, she smiled slyly at him.

"Did you sleep well, my love?" the young doctor inquired amusingly, knowing full well she that had done everything but.

"You of all people should know better than to ask me that, Dr. Lecter. Thanks to you I barely got a wink of sleep!"

Hannibal smiled as he chuckled good-naturedly at that wry little comment. Soon however his genial expression transformed itself into the sternest of looks.

Touching her fingers to his furrowed brow, Lady Murasaki playfully teased her Hannibal. "You shouldn't do that. You'll get wrinkles before your time."

Gently, he encircled his fingers around her slim wrist to pull her hand away from his forehead but not before planting a hasty kiss on the warm soft palm of her hand. Afterward, he shifted on the bed, moving away from his lady slightly.

Concerned by Hannibal's abrupt change in demeanor, Murasaki muscles tensed as her heartbeat accelerated. There was something wrong, she could sense it.

"Is there something troubling you, Hannibal?" she asked worriedly. "Have I done something to displease you?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, which sent a bolt panic right through her heart.

Hannibal noticing his lady's anxiety very quickly tried to lay her fears to rest. He turned to her then placed his hands on her bare shoulders.

Looking deeply into her eyes, Hannibal offered his reply. "You could _never_ do anything that to displease me, milady. You alone have restored my ability to love. Not since Mishca have I cared so much for someone. Because of this, I am _afraid_…"

Searching his eyes frantically with her own, she tried to discern the cause of his fears.

"What, Hannibal, what exactly are you afraid of?"

Looking solemnly at his love, he responded in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid…I'm afraid of losing you."

Touched by his sentiment, Lady Murasaki quick as a flash lunged herself at Hannibal to embrace him. Once he was securely in her arms, she kissed him firmly on the mouth, reassuring him of her love with this simple act. Hesitantly, he returned the kiss.

When at last she withdrew, Murasaki grasped Hannibal's beloved face within her tiny delicate hands.

Her dark eyes, as hard as flints, bored into his blood red orbs as she said with conviction, "Hannibal, you listen to me. I have survived a war, the death of my entire family and eventually the loss of my husband. I have been the victim of countless indignities because of my sex and race.

But through it all I have preserved, I have _survived_! Life has done its worst to me and yet here I remain. Do you actually think that I have endured all that for nothing? The happiness I have found with you, my dearest, is my hard-earned _reward_! I sincerely believe that! And I refuse to give it up without a fight! No, Hannibal, you are wrong. You will NOT lose me because I will not allow it!"

Moved by his lady's words, Hannibal for the first time in a long time felt the warm trickle of a single tear slowly roll down his face. Wrapping his arms around Murasaki, he pressed her tiny frame protectively into his, holding her in reverent silence for as long as he was able.

Moments passed into eternity before he whispered, "I love you, milady. I love you so much, it hurts."

lllll

At Hannibal's insistence, Lady Murasaki reluctantly showered and changed. If it had been up to her, she would have preferred to remain in bed all day making love with her handsome young doctor.

But when Hannibal had urged her to get dressed, the seriousness in his tone forced her to obey him without question.

"There are important matters that we need to discuss, details to be ironed out. And quite frankly, milady, seeing you in such a state of undress is not helping the situation. Be good now, and change."

With her shoulders slumped, Lady Murasaki had wrapped the crumpled bed sheet around her body like a makeshift toga before sauntering off to the bathroom like a scolded child.

But as she reached the bathroom door Hannibal's voice had called out to her causing Murasaki to stop dead in her tracks.

"By the way, you look quite fetching in that sheet, Murasaki. I have half a mind to rip it right off your body and do unspeakable things to your person."

Terribly relieved by Hannibal's scandalous commentary, Lady Murasaki turned back to give him a seductive smile before proceeding into the bathroom to attend to her personal needs.

lllll

Now, properly dressed and without a hair out of place, the proud Japanese lady was seated across from Hannibal at the dining table. He had taken the liberty of ordering room service while she was in the shower.

Hannibal, ever the gracious host, insisted on serving his lady her breakfast. As she daintily laid her cloth napkin into her lap, Lady Murasaki, suddenly realized just how just how famished she was. The moment Hannibal uncovered the tray that contained the perfectly prepared Eggs Benedict, the tantalizing aroma made her mouth water.

She watched with anticipation as Hannibal set her plate down in front her. Soon he served himself the same portion of the poached egg and Canadian bacon, carefully setting them onto a toasted English muffin.

Reaching over to his right, the well mannered doctor picked up a silver tureen. Looking over at his obviously hungry breakfast companion Lecter smiled as he asked courteously, "Hollandaise sauce, milady?"

She nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, please."

After Hannibal had ladled on a generous helping of the creamy rich sauce onto her waiting eggs, he watched with certain delight as his lady promptly took her cutlery in hand and began to eat with gusto.

He always did appreciate a woman with a hearty appetite. He never trusted anyone that didn't know how take pleasure of a good meal. Hannibal absolutely detested women that always picked at their food then left most of it uneaten.

Such waste!

Food, when properly prepared, was meant to be a delight to the palate, an exquisite confection to be savored and enjoyed. It was almost criminal how some people nibbled at their food like rodents. And it peeved Dr. Lecter to no end to see a beautiful feast treated with no more regard than some discarded piece of rotten cheese.

Hannibal lips formed a secretive little smile as his mind drifted to pleasant recollections of the corrective measures he'd taken in the past to educate the ignorant and uncouth in the ways of gastronomic appreciation.

It had proven to be a most difficult task indeed, especially when he had relieved some of his most unwilling pupils of their tongues. Oh well, at least _he_ felt better after the excruciating but necessary exercise.

Once her immediate hunger was sated with a few liberal bites of her meal, Lady Murasaki dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She then took a sip of her freshly squeezed orange juice before turning to Hannibal to ask, "All right, now that's out of the way…what matters _do_ we have to discuss?"

Hannibal appreciated her forwardness, it saved so much time. There was no pussyfooting around with Lady Murasaki. She was a woman that had always insisted on hearing news immediately, whether it is good or bad.

So Lecter returned the favor by being as forthright with her. "My lady, there is no beating around the bush. And I will not insult your intelligence by sugar coating what I have to say. We are in grave danger, my love."

"Mr. Marquez poses a threat to you…and to us, does he not?" It was more of an affirming statement than a question.

"Yes, indeed he does," Hannibal said calmly

"He killed Pascal, didn't he?"

Astounded by his lady's perceptiveness, Dr. Lecter slowly nodded his head in agreement.

"He also murdered the concierge, Mr. Napier."

Lady Murasaki's eyes widened with surprise. "You mean to tell me that wasn't you?"

"My love, how little you must think of me. However, don't misunderstand me. I was very tempted to put an end to that imposter's masquerade. But the method of his demise lacked a certain…_finesse_. Really, arranging the remains to resemble skull and crossbones was _hardly _imaginative."

Lady Murasaki couldn't help shuddering just a tad over the more grisly details of Mr. Napier's dismemberment. Still, she wanted to explore this matter further and get to the truth.

Keeping her gazed fixed on Hannibal she tentatively asked her next question.

"So, what makes you so certain that it was Ramon that committed these crimes?"

Hannibal brought his hand up to his face to rub his chin. His brow furrowed as his mind was thrown into deep contemplation. He had already developed quite a few theories about the murders and the man that had committed them.


	23. Chapter 23

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"Well, Hannibal, I'm waiting. What do you know of this Ramon Marquez?" Lady Murasaki asked anxiously.

Cautiously, Dr. Hannibal Lecter answered her. "You may not be aware of this, my dear, but during my studies at John Hopkins I have also started to delve into the realm of psychiatry"

"_Psychiatry?_" Lady Murasaki repeated, intrigued by Hannibal's interest on the subject.

With an almost devilish twinkle in his eye, the youthful physician nodded. "It is really a most fascinating field. To be able to examine the mind, to dissect it a section at a time and discover what _drives_ a person do what they do is quite remarkable.

The human psyche is the most extraordinary dominion of the universe and yet it's most mysterious. And I intend to learn all I can about it and use this knowledge to my advantage. By extracting vital information about a traumatic event, or unlocking the repressed memories of a troubled mind, the better I will understand my patients and be able to help them. After all the body is nothing without the mind."

Enthralled by Hannibal's new found enthusiasm in yet another branch of science, Lady Murasaki encouraged him to explain how it pertained to the dual murders.

"Well, _mon amour_, I am still no expert in this field, but based on what I've learned so far, we may have encountered the most dangerous of psychosis with Mr. Marquez."

With her curiosity well beyond peaked the refined heiress raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "And what _exactly_ do you mean by that?"

"Our bellboy, it seems, is a complete _psychopath_."

Confused by the clinical term, Murasaki asked for a more detailed definition.

"Apparently, the boy displays all of the textbook traits. The anti-social behavior and the superficial charm are just a few of the personality flaws of this particular condition.

Ramon also seems deceitful and incapable of assuming any responsibility for his actions. With no sense of remorse and lacking the capacity for compassion or social obligation, he does not form lasting relationships. I also believe that he also suffers from extreme paranoia, and is homophobic.

Although I have a strong suspicion that his sexual preferences lean toward the male gender. However, he is afraid to indulge in his fantasies because of his ethnicity and cultural background. Hispanics are staunch chauvinists. _Machismo_ is the code they live by and any indication to the contrary would have the boy ostracized by his family and quite possibly the close knit community he lives in.

Perhaps that is the reason poor Jimmy Evans was murdered. He may have found out about Ramon's homosexual tendencies. My educated guess would be that our Mr. Marquez made a pass at the boy. And in retaliation he and his friends violated Ramon the way they did. But revenge is a double-edged sword, at least in Mr. Evans' case.

However, I deduce that the Evan's murder was most likely clumsy at best. The decapitation, in all probability, was sloppy and rushed, suggestive of the crude work of a common butcher. Ramon was clearly out of his element then, a bumbling novice trying out his skills out for the first time.

But now… he's had some practice honing his craft. And judging from the precision of the surgical incisions in both cases, Mr. Marquez wields his weapon very well."

Dr. Lecter paused for a bit to take a sip of the French Roast coffee he had just served himself. Bringing the steaming cup of the hot beverage to his lips, his nostrils flared as he enjoyed the enticing aroma. He always took his coffee black, believing firmly that cream and sugar would only diminish the true taste, not enhance it.

As he savored the bold flavor of his breakfast brew, Hannibal observed that he had successfully mesmerized Lady Mursaki with his near accurate assessment of Ramon's psychological state of mind. He was almost certain that she found it to be both captivating and horrific.

Murasaki urged Dr. Lecter to continue. "Please don't stop on my account, Hannibal. Do go on, I'd like to hear more."

After setting his cup down onto its saucer, he leaned over to his curious lady and said rather wolfishly, "You would, now? Well, I never thought that _you_ of all people would find my amateurish psychiatric prattle so entertaining."

That little comment earned him a very stern glare from the beautiful dark eyes he loved so well. Hannibal immediately apologized.

Chuckling a bit, Dr. Lecter offered his sincerest contrition. "I am sorry, my love, I did not mean to be so crass."

Murasaki accepted his apology. "You are forgiven. Now would you _please _continue?"

Hannibal relented, not before his kissed the very tip of her nose. "Very well, as you wish. Listen closely, this final detail is most important and it's what makes him so treacherous.

Ramon is a keen observer of human behavior. He watches those around him very carefully so that he may mimic their mannerisms and expressions flawlessly. He does this so that, like a chameleon, he is able to blend in with his environment and avoid detection. Every smile or polite gesture is a well orchestrated imitation of the real thing. And to the untrained eye he appears for all intents and purposes to be a normal, fully functional member of the society he lives in.

But make no mistake. There is not a shred of humanity left in Ramon Marquez, perhaps there never was. He has a taste for blood that will never be satisfied. He is a ruthless predator and the world, I'm afraid, is his hunting ground. "

Lady Murasaki was sickened by Hannibal's estimations. "If this is true, then the boy is a monster!"

"I can assure, dear lady, that what I have revealed is quite accurate."

"Then we have to go to the police and speak to Detective Rizzo! It is the only way that we will be able to clear your name! We have to ensure that Ramon is put behind bars where he belongs!"

"No." Hannibal stated quietly.

Astonished by his refusal to go to the proper authorities, Lady Murasaki asked indignantly, "And why not?"

As calmly as humanly possible, Dr. Lector countered, "Because dear lady, we do not have a shred of _proof_! All we have is a very educated guess. Although my instincts have never betrayed me, the police will not see things our way.

Let us not forget that _I_ am still the L.A.P.D.'s prime suspect. Clever Ramon has taken the necessary steps to ensure that I remain as such. He kills in a similar manner as I do. His weapon of choice: a 15 blade scalpel, the same as mine. And he selected his victims carefully, I clearly see that now."

lllll

A sense of foreboding crept up Murasaki's spine. Although she had made a concerted effort to reconcile with Hannibal's darker side, it was still difficult for her to hear about his techniques.

Tentatively she asked, "Perhaps I shouldn't be asking this…but what makes you believe that Ramon didn't target the Inspector and Napier randomly?"

Again Hannibal fell silent as he mulled over the question carefully. Murasaki could almost see the wheels turning in that marvelous mind of his as he considered what his proper response should be.

After a moment's pause, Dr. Lecter broke the silence with his well thought out answer. "Darling, I don't want to alarm you, but I think that you have a _rival_ for my affections."

Perplexed by Hannibal's strange reply, Murasaki queried him further. "I don't understand. You mean to tell me that Ramon somehow harbors some sort _sentiment_ for you…?"

"That is _precisely_ what I mean. He has made it quite clear that he has more than just a casual interest in my work. Moreover, Ramon holds me in high regard. In fact his admiration is so profound he has tried to emulate me in everyway.

It is evident that he has followed my career very closely. And I'll wager that he's also kept close tabs on my other "activities" as well. Do you believe that his attending medical school is simply a coincidence?

I think not.

Ramon has meticulously patterned his life to resemble mine in almost every respect. He may strongly believe that we are kindred spirits, soul mates even."

"_Soul mates?"_ Lady Murasaki was aghast as she listened to Hannibal's detailed assessment of their mutual foe.

With a grim expression splayed across his otherwise angelic face, Dr. Lecter replied. "Yes, my love. It stands to reason then that he would commit these murders as homage to my past exploits, and more importantly, to get me to notice him. Well, he's got my full attention now, that's for sure."

Steeling her resolve again, Lady Murasaki insisted that Hannibal listen to reason. "Then that's all the more cause to go to the police! We have to let them know who the _real_ killer is before it is too late!"

Hannibal slowly moved his head from side to side. "_Mon petite_, you are forgetting the most important detail… I had plenty of motive to kill Inspector Popil. As for Napier, the investigators in the case could easily attribute his death to the uncontrollable blood lust of a man that has already been accused of murder."

Wide-eyed, Murasaki refuted the dismal possibilities of their seemingly hopeless situation. "But you were acquitted, Hannibal, _exonerated_! You were never formerly charged with anything!"

Suddenly taking her hand in his, Hannibal raised it to his lips to plant a grateful kiss upon it.

Not letting go of her hand, Dr. Lecter gave it an affectionate squeeze then stated appreciatively, "And I have _you _to thank for my continued freedom, my love."

The corners of Lady Murasaki's mouth curled up into a semblance of a smile for Hannibal's benefit, and yet, it did not diminish the sense of panic that was starting to eat away at her.

If what Hannibal said about Ramon was factual, then she feared the boy would go to any lengths to achieve his twisted fantasies.

She now knew that the specter of death was looming above them both. Murasaki she could actually sense its dark ominous presence all around them and it chilled her to the bone.

However the proud lady tried her best to mask her inner turmoil by calling upon the well practiced stoicism that all Japanese were known for.

As Murasaki continued to listen to Hannibal intently, she adjusted her posture. Sitting straight up in her chair, she appeared resolute and unshaken. In Dr. Lecter's eyes she was the very epitome of strength.

He knew however, that quite the opposite was true. Nonetheless, Dr. Lecter was deeply touched by his lady's attempt to put on a brave face.

Returning the cheerless little smile with one of his own, he went on to say, "Sadly, although I have the testimony of that lovely chambermaid, Detective Rizzo is quite adamant on charging me with this double homicide. And without any concrete evidence to the contrary, I'm afraid he might prevail."

"Then we have to _find_ the proof! There has to be _something_ Ramon left behind that would tie him to the killings. We'll tear this hotel apart if we have to!"

Hannibal took another moment to gaze upon his lady. Once again he found her fierce loyalty astounding. He was profoundly moved.

_God, I love her! How I survived these past two years without my lady, I'll never know. _

Very quickly his astute mind began to formulate a plan. Gently Hannibal Lecter laid his hand on Lady Murasaki's face, cupping her right cheek lovingly. Gazing admiringly at his love, he spoke softly.

"Go on and finish your breakfast. You'll need your energy"

"What for, if I may ask?" Lady Murasaki asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

He honored her with a slow mischievous smile that quickly reminded Murasaki of the little boy he had once been.

The decibels of his hypnotic voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Because, dear one, we have a full day's worth of _sleuthing _to do!"

This time when Lady Murasaki smiled, it was the most genuinely, brilliant grin that Hannibal had ever seen.


	24. Chapter 24

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Honorable Mention:** I would like to dedicate this next chapter to a new reader that has joined the ranks of "Ravenous" fans.

Welcome, _ebonyXestranged_!

Now, without any further delay, I give you all the next installment of this saga…

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Nothing! We've been at this all morning, Hannibal and we've uncovered absolutely nothing!"

Standing in the cramped space of the 5th floor stairwell with her hands clamped firmly on her hips, Lady Murasaki's exasperation was quite evident.

Sympathetic to his lady's obvious frustration, Dr. Hannibal Lecter could not dispel his own feelings of dissatisfaction. Their surreptitious exploration of the known crime scenes had been fruitless indeed.

The astute physician eventually deduced that any remaining evidence had either been trampled on by the maladroit clod-footed police investigators or sneakily removed by the very man that had committed the acts of murder.

lllll

Earlier in the day the doctor and his lady had set out to search the hotel for any substantiation that could eliminate the cloud of suspicion surrounding Hannibal. And in doing so, be able to link Ramon Marquez to the crimes.

Once again, dominated by logic, Lecter chose to first search the supply closet on his floor, while Lady Murasaki served as a diligent look-out. Careful not to disturb the perimeter of the crime scene marked off by the bright yellow tape, the doctor plunged headlong into the closet.

But, after a few minutes of meticulously perusing over every available inch of space in the tiny supply area, two things became apparently clear.

Based on the minuscule amount of blood splatter still present, and the tight quarters therein, the supply closet could not have served as the murder scene.

The murderer had taken his time with Alfred Napier, cutting away his extremities with the utmost care. No, the closet simply had been a staging area where Ramon chose to display his handiwork, nothing more. The killing and the dismemberment that followed had been performed elsewhere.

Convinced that there would be nothing more to gain, Dr. Lecter gracefully exited the supply room.

"Well…what did you find?" Lady Murasaki whispered as she observed her lover emerge from the closet.

His maroon eyes gazed upon her gravely as he tersely replied, "Nothing that would help our cause, milady."

Feeling a bit disheartened by the news, Murasaki frowned with disappointment. Nonetheless, the lady refused to give up. There just had to be something, _anything_ that they could present to the police.

Lady Murasaki transformed her grimace into a brave little smile. Next she boldly grasped Hannibal's hand in hers and began to lead him toward the elevator.

"Then we have no time to waste! We need to go to the fifth floor and search the stairwell."

Slightly amused, Lecter watched as the delicate woman before him, throw her shoulders back. With her head held high, she marched them straight to the lift's doors with the determination of a solider approaching the battlefield.

"Very well, milady, you lead the way."

lllll

Presently, after rummaging about the concrete stairwell for almost an hour, the lady was resting against the cool metal railing of the stairs while Hannibal was still crouched over the chalk outline of where Popil's body had fallen. Deep lines of concentration furrowed his otherwise smooth brow as he mulled over the facts of the case as he knew them to be.

Inspector Popil had been killed on this very spot, but not before he was viciously mutilated. Once more Ramon had skillfully wielded his surgeon's blade to make the clean and precise incisions that had removed poor Popil's tongue as well as his male genitalia.

The police report Lecter had underhandedly read during Lady Murasaki's interrogation by Detective Rizzo had stated as much.

The investigator had been quite careless to leave the file containing the vital information terribly exposed to Hannibal's greedy eyes.

And while the documents within the manila folder were upturned on the breakfast table that morning and meant for the Detective's read-through only, the clever young murder suspect had easily and quickly scrutinized the entire dossier.

Thanks to his almost uncanny aptitude to read and comprehend the written word backward, forward or in any askew direction it was presented to him, Dr. Lecter eyeballed every detail of the crimes as the oblivious Detective Rizzo questioned his aunt.

Both killings had been brutal and artistically macabre. The bodies had also been showcased in dramatic fashion to cause immediate shock and revulsion. But there was something more meaningful, much more important.

The slayings had been carried out to garner the attention and admiration of one man: Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

And there was now no doubt in Hannibal's mind that Ramon had tried to reach out to him through his crimes. There was a hidden message, some bizarre communiqué, but what was it?

_What are you trying to tell me Ramon?_

Just then, Hannibal recalled a minor detail of the report. It was something that had been overlooked by the police for the moment. But for a predator like Lecter, it was vital information that gave him more insight on his prey.

"The fingers…" he said quietly.

Straining to hear him, his beautiful companion slowly began to saunter toward Dr. Lecter.

"I beg your pardon, my love. Did you say something?"

Rising from his crouched position with the lethal poise of a jungle cat, Hannibal swiftly turned to face Murasaki.

The mere sight of her caused the corners of his well-shaped mouth to curve up into an easy smile. In the dimness of the stairwell, the lady couldn't help noticing how Hannibal's fiery eyes sparkled like fine gem stones.

The pair of blood-red rubies that peered out at her from the shadows exhibited a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Simultaneously, Lady Murasaki was filled with hope and a nagging feeling uncertainty.

"Hannibal, are you alright?" She asked worriedly as her eyes frantically swept over his face.

Taking her manicured hands in his, Dr. Lecter gently reassured his lady of his current state of well-being. "I am fine, _mon amour_. But if my deductions are correct, our friend, Mr. Marquez soon won't be."

Suspicious and unnerved by Hannibal's odd reply, Murasaki narrowed her eyes as she raised another question. "You _know_ something, don't you?"

"Yes… I do." He stated as-a-matter-of-factly

At this point, Murasaki was beside herself with exasperation. "And when are you planning to disclose this information, Hannibal?"

Bowing slightly he raised one of her hands to waiting lips and then the other. He then released them and turned toward the concrete steps.

As he started his slow descent, Dr. Lecter beckoned his lady to join him. When she did, he said quietly but decisively, "I'll explain on the way."

Once again Lady Murasaki was taken by surprise. "On the way to where, exactly?"

"Why back to _San Mateo,_ of course. I believe it is there that we will find more than sufficient evidence against Ramon."

Encouraged by this bit of news, Lady Murasaki quickly slipped her hand into the crook of Hannibal's arm.

Giving her lover a sidelong glance, she chirped almost merrily, "Then let's hurry!"

lllll

After procuring their rented vehicle, a pristine black Cadillac coupe convertible outfitted with shiny chrome fenders and a luxurious interior, Dr. Lecter and Lady Murasaki were well on their way to the _San Mateo_ Vineyard.

Sure enough, Detective Rizzo's assigned bloodhounds were soon in hot pursuit, indiscreetly trailing behind the Caddy at a close distance in their so-called unmarked police car. But not even the presence of Rizzo's men would perturb Hannibal this day.

Actually, he welcomed their annoying persistence, just this once, hoping the intrusive officers would follow them all the way to the winery where Dr. Lecter was confident lay the proof of Ramon's murderous transgressions.

And after speaking with new concierge, Mr. Humphries, to ensure that Marquez was indeed on active duty at the hotel, Hannibal firmly believed that he and Murasaki would have no trouble locating the required evidence to bring the aspiring medical student to justice.

After few minutes of driving along in complete silence, the melodious tones of his lady's voice broke through Dr. Lecter's private thoughts.

"So, would you mind telling me now why we've set forth on this excursion?"

Taking his eyes off the road for just a second Hannibal glanced over to the exquisite woman sitting in the passenger's seat and gave her his most brilliant smile.

"I don't mind in the least, my dear. You see, whilst I was surveying the chalk outline of the dearly departed Inspector, it suddenly occurred to me that there had been a minute but remarkable detail about both cases."

"Which is…?" The lady asked coolly, trying hard not to sound too interested. However, both she and Hannibal knew that she was just anxiously awaiting his response.

"The _fingers_, my darling Murasaki, were severed off the victim's hands in _both_ cases."

"So you are saying that Ramon actually keeps body parts? How revolting!" Lady Murasaki said with a shudder of revulsion.

"Yes, it appears that our killer collects mementos of his crimes so that he can relive the events later, how very _sentimental_ of him."

"_Sentimental?_ Really, Hannibal, how could you say that? You never kept any _trophies_ of the people you…you…oh God, I can't even bring myself to say it! But you know what I mean!"

"Yes, I'm afraid I do. The reason for my lack of _keepsakes_ is because I chose to consume them. But I collected my spoils nonetheless."

Murasaki suddenly found that she was at complete a loss for words after that last morbid but factual statement.

_Being in love with a serial murderer is going to take some getting used to._

Hannibal, on the other hand, kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, not daring to look at the brave woman sitting beside him. For the first time in his life he actually experienced a sense of remorse. Not over his past exploits.

_Perish the thought! _

His greatest regret would always be that his beautiful lady had become a consenting party to his crimes. He never wanted her to be tainted by the blood he had split. But he was grateful all the same for her acceptance, unflinching loyalty, and above all else her undying love.

Dr. Hannibal was certainly in her debt and he would spend the rest of his days happily repaying it.


	25. Chapter 25

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"Why, Dr. Lecter…Madame Lecter, this is a most unexpected, but _pleasant_ surprise! If I had known you were coming, I wouldn't have given Rosita the day off! And you've just missed Guillermo! He went into town to pick up supplies. But do come in, come in!" Exclaimed Jacinta Ortega, proprietress of the _San Mateo_ Vineyard. Nervously yet graciously, she stepped aside to allow her young guests to enter her home.

Hannibal was grateful that fortune decided to smile upon him this day.

_So the lady is alone. This will be easier than I thought, but we must act quickly before her husband returns!_

Before going into the house, Hannibal turned on his heel and waved at his persistent pursuers who were still sitting inside their vehicle. The officers had parked their unmarked police car just outside the wrought iron gates of the winery.

Lecter was confident that they posed no threat to him at the moment. Besides, he suspected that they had been ordered by their superior to keep up their surveillance at a safe distance. They were to observe but not interfere unless there was imminent danger present.

When he was satisfied that he had taunted lawmen sufficiently, Hannibal turned around to gain entry into the house.

From the moment Hannibal Lecter and his exquisite companion, Lady Murasaki crossed the threshold of _Casa Ortega_, the handsome young doctor immediately turned on the charm. By swiftly distracting his intended victim, Mrs. Ortega would soon be completely under his control. The success of their spontaneous mission sorely depended upon it.

Without delay Lecter flashed Jacinta a megawatt million-dollar smile that could easily rival that of Clark Gable or Cary Grant's, the box office heart throbs of the day. A glimpse of those perfect white teeth, and Hannibal's boyish good looks was all it took. The poor woman was hooked, line and sinker like unwary trout.

At that moment Dr. Lecter decided to go in for the kill. With noble elegance, Hannibal tenderly took possession one of Jacinta's chubby little hands, carefully encasing it in the warmth of his much larger one.

Blushing furiously, Mrs. Ortega giggled like schoolgirl with a crush as she watched Hannibal raise her hand to his beautifully shaped lips and place a chaste kiss upon it.

A hint of amused malevolence sparkled within those mesmerizing maroon irises, as Hannibal observed Jacinta quickly became putty in his manipulative hands. The older woman was now readily pliable and susceptible to exploitation.

Returning the hand to its rightful owner, Hannibal now used the timbre of his voice to further subdue the lady of the house. Locking his entrancing gaze onto hers, he spoke to Jacinta in mellifluous yet commanding tones, his every word dripping with honey.

"Mrs. Ortega, how good it is to see you again! We just couldn't get enough of your gracious hospitality. So my wife and I decided to pay you a visit to thank you personally for yesterday's tour. I hope you don't mind."

Keeping her stare transfixed on Hannibal's extraordinarily beautiful eyes, Jacinta felt herself fall deeper and deeper into a state of warmth and comfort. Every syllable that Lecter spoke lulled her further and further, as her strength of will was slowly stripped away. Her mind and soul now lay bare and defenseless to Hannibal's machinations.

Jacinta was rendered powerless to resist him.

The world that surrounded her slowly faded out of existence, as the familiar sights and sounds of home fell away. After a very short while all that remained was the peaceful resonance of Dr. Lecter's voice and fiery influence of his all-seeing gaze.

Slowly, Jacinta Ortega shook her head; she was completely under Hannibal's spell. Entranced, her caramel colored eyes were glazed over and as wide as saucers.

And when at last she spoke, her voice contained an almost robotic quality to it. Lady Murasaki, to her own astonishment, could now clearly see that Jacinta had become a hollow and soulless automaton waiting to perform her master's bidding.

"It is good to see you as well, Dr. Lecter. How may I be of service to you?"

Smiling down at the diminutive woman with predatory intent, Dr. Hannibal Lecter whispered his first command.

"Jacinta, I would like you to tell my lovely 'wife' where your nephew's bedroom is."

Unable to take her eyes off of Hannibal's looming face, Jacinta simply lifted her right arm and with a steady finger pointed towards the large staircase that dominated the foyer.

"Upstairs." She said in that far-away voice of hers. "It's the fourth door on the right."

Hannibal couldn't help smirking just a tad. Extracting the required information from this weak-minded woman was like taking candy from a baby.

Quickly with the slightest of hand gestures he motioned for Lady Murasaki to head up the stairs.

The lady promptly obeyed and steadily began her ascent.

However, Murasaki was summarily halted when she heard Jacinta call out, "Wait!"

Carefully, the heiress turned around and worriedly looked at Hannibal. Mrs. Ortega meanwhile reached into the deep, wide pocket of the colorful apron she was presently wearing. Shortly thereafter, Jacinta pulled out a common household key.

"Ramon's room is always locked," she explained in a hollow monotone. "You'll need _this_ to get in."

Hesitantly, Lady Murasaki climbed back down the stairs. Slowly she approached Mrs. Ortega as uncertainty set in. She looked to Hannibal once again for reassurance. His silent nod granted her permission to retrieve the key.

lllll

While her crafty lover kept Mrs. Ortega "entertained" downstairs, Lady Murasaki wasted no time in finding and accessing Ramon Marquez's bedroom. With a quick turn of the key, she carefully opened the door and made her way inside.

Although the sun was shining cheerily outside, the room was cloaked in total darkness. Apparently the curtains had not been draw back yet.

_Or perhaps Ramon prefers the gloominess that the shadows provide. _

Quickly, Lady Murasaki's hand glided along the wall nearest to the door, blindly searching for a light switch. Soon, she was flooded with relief when her fingers came in contact with the knob. Hastily, Murasaki flipped it on to illuminate the bedchamber.

After her vision had adjusted to the light, her dark eyes scanned her new surroundings. Upon first inspection, she found that the room was surprisingly small and its furnishings were simple yet functional. At its center was a twin-sized bed that was so neatly made, it appeared to have never been slept in.

The hardwood floor was plain with no rugs or other floor coverings upon it.

She noticed a small wooden desk shoved up against one wall with four books piled neatly on top of one another. Additionally, the desktop was adorned with a chipped ceramic coffee mug that contained a half a dozen sharpened number 2 pencils and two gold fountain pens.

Lastly, right smack in the middle of impeccably kept work space was what appeared to be a composition book with its familiar black and white speckled cover.

On the opposite side of the room there were two doors; one led to the closet, the other to an adjoining bathroom.

As Murasaki moved further into the room she observed that aside from two book shelves crammed with what appeared to be scientific journals and medical texts, the rest of the white walls were quite bare.

There were no pictures of any kind, no family photos or other mementos of a life well-lived save one.

_No…it's not possible. How did he get his hands on this?_

Nailed high above the bed in a rather ornate frame was a black and white photograph of none other than Hannibal.

Murasaki was floored by the unexpected presence of her love's likeness displayed proudly in this young man's room. Then suddenly an overwhelming compulsion to inspect the photograph more closely pushed her body forward.

As she gazed upon the glossy picture encased in behind a thin pane of glass, the lady soon noticed that Hannibal appeared much younger.

The photograph had obviously taken during his days at the French medical school.

And then sudden recognition struck her like thunderbolt.

_Of course! How could I have not seen it before? This is the photograph that graced the front page of every French newspaper from _Les Echos_ to _Les Monde Diplomatique_ during those terrible years when Hannibal was Paris' most notorious murder suspect._

_But how in the world did Marquez obtain such a pristine and well preserved copy?_

Hannibal had not posed for the photo, that much was certain. It had been taken surreptitiously by an unscrupulous photographer one blustery winter morning as he was entering the hallowed halls of _Montpellier._

Murasaki couldn't help the swell of pride she felt as she adoringly gazed upon the image of the fresh faced boy she had loved so well.

However, there was no time for reminiscing. Suddenly remembering her mission, Lady Murasaki began her desperate hunt for evidence. She had some idea of what she was looking for, but part of her dreaded finding it.

Pushing her fears aside, the lady searched everywhere she could possibly think of. The bathroom was first. Hastily she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, underneath the basin, and around the claw-foot tub. However, aside from the usual first aid items and toiletries kept in most households, Murasaki found nothing out of the ordinary.

_Damn!_

Before leaving the bathroom she suddenly became aware of a second door located directly opposite of the one she had just entered from. Deducing that it could possibly lead to an adjoining bedroom, the lady quickly walked up to it and tried to pry it open. But after jingling the handle a couple of times she discovered that it was locked from the other side.

After she exited the washroom, Murasaki attacked the closet next. She inspected it from top to bottom, but it was to no avail. She found nothing of consequence except Ramon's clothes and to her astonishment some rather racy publications depicting young boys and men in several stages of undress performing acts of sadomasochistic bondage on one another.

_Disgusting!_

Shoving the offending material back into its hiding place, Murasaki quickly closed the closet door. Next she went over to the tiny desk and began to rifle through the pages of the text books.

Again she came up empty.

That's when she decided to open up the composition book. Except, when her eyes fell upon the first page, she suddenly filled with regret.

Every page was covered from margin to margin with the scribblings of a mad man. Words of death and destruction written in block lettering offeneded her eyes. Filthier words, denigrating women were emblazoned across the once white paper in bold red letters.

_Cunt, Bitch_ and _Whore_ screamed out at her, threatening Lady Murasaki's very existence.

Amateurish cartoons were also present. In an obvious fit of passion and rage, Ramon had drawn sick twisted parodies of the magazines she had just seen. She was aghast to find that a knife or some similar sharp object had been substituted for the male member of the agressor. And as she turned the pages of the notebook, she found each new crudely drawn caricature to be more ghastly and bloodier than the last.

Decapitations, castrations and disembowelments were all clearly depicted, boldly outlined by the blood red ink of Ramon's poison pen.

Sickened beyond belief, Lady Murasaki threw the composition book face down onto the desk's hardwood surface with revulsion. Trembling with fear, she stepped away from the desk. Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as she tried desperately to regulate her erratic breathing.

After a few moments the lady calmed down. Now, more than ever she was determined to find anything that would that would reserve a seat in California's electric chair for that demented bastard Ramon.

Walking over to the small bed, she suddenly bent down. Lifting a corner of the blue and white quilt that lay upon it, the lady took a deep breath before peering underneath the bed. When her eyes could not discern anything due to the darkness, she cautiously reached into the unknown recesses of the space between the mattress and the floor.

Murasaki prayed with all her might that the worse she would encounter would be a dust bunny or two. But when her hand abruptly came into contact with a hard object sheathed in cloth, she was certain that she had found something of significance.

Encircling her slender fingers around the covered item, she cautiously brought it into the light. Sure enough, it appeared to be the size of a Mason jar wrapped up tightly in a torn off piece of an old bed sheet.

And judging from the weight and sloshing sound she heard, Murasaki guessed that it contained a liquid of some sort.

Rising from the hardwood floor holding the cloth covered container with both hands, Murasaki again inhaled deeply trying to steel her resolve.

Warily and with trembling fingers, she began to slowly unwrap the jar. She peeled back layer after layer of tattered cloth, until at last the awful truth was revealed to her horror stricken eyes.

There, floating in the eerily green liquid known as formaldehyde, were four perfectly preserved human fingers and a thumb. Tears of sorrow stung her eyes when she saw that one of the severed digits still had a gold ring snugly placed around its base.

The ring was etched with the insignia of the French Republic Guard, and it became quite clear to Lady Murasaki whose ring it had been.

_Oh Pascal, you poor devil!_

Closing her eyes, she recalled the day she had given it to him as present. The ring had been a symbol of her friendship and the genuine affection she had felt for the police inspector.

"Taking a stroll down Memory Lane, I see…"

Nearly jumping out of her skin at the sound of another person's voice, Murasaki was forced to whirl around to confront its source.

When she did, a very audible gasp escaped her lips as the Mason jar slipped out of her fingers sending the glass container crashing to the wooden floor below. The jar quickly shattered into a thousand pieces as tiny rivulets of formaldehyde trickled across the floor. The severed appendages were then scattered about unceremoniously like discarded sausages.

Paralyzed by fear, Lady Murasaki could not move as she presently found herself face to face with Ramon Marquez.

The killer that had taken the life of her friend was now only a few feet away from her. Leaning casually against the door that led to the bathroom, his hands were clasped behind him as his dark eyes calmly regarded the intruder of his private sanctuary.

An eternity went by before either of them uttered a word. However, when Ramon started methodically moving towards the woman that was backing away from him, Lady Murasaki suddenly found her voice.

"Hannibal said you were working at the hotel today. H-how did you get in here?" she asked weakly.

Smirking confidently Ramon replied. "I could ask you the same thing. But it doesn't matter now."

Then before Lady Murasaki could react or call for help, Ramon was swiftly upon her. Viciously he pulled her slender body into his arms and crushing the woman against his well toned form.

Immediately, she began to fight him and at one point successfully dragged her long sharp fingernails across the side of Ramon's face.

Despite the nasty bleeding gashes on his cheek, Ramon appeared to be amused by her efforts. Smiling he said, "Well, looks like this _kitty_ has claws. Let's just see how tough you'll be after I _spay_ you, you fucking cunt!"

Murasaki continued to struggle to break free, but Ramon was much stronger than she had anticipated. It didn't take long before he overpowered her.

"Hannibal will kill you slow for this. That I promise you!" Murasaki hissed.

Ramon summarily clapped his left hand over his victim's mouth to prevent her from screaming.

"Be a good girl and shut the fuck up! I'm not interested in what you have to say anyway!" Ramon whispered contemptuously.

Next, he roughly pushed Murasaki up against the desk, and then slammed her back hard onto the desk's flat surface.

With the weight of his body, Ramon kept Murasaski pinned in place as her arms and legs wildly flailed about.

Then to her horrified surprise, Marquez savagely plunged the needle of a syringe he had been concealing behind his back straight into the side of Murasaki's neck.

Although she winced in pain, it didn't take long for the sedative to take effect. With smug satisfaction, Ramon watched as Murasaki's body went limp right before his eyes.

Leaning down next to her ear he whispered mockingly, "Nighty-night, _bitch!_"


	26. Chapter 26

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The instant Hannibal Lecter heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass emanating from the hacienda's second story, he instinctively sprung into action.

"Murasaki!" he gasped in horror.

Not bothering to excuse himself, in a momentary flash he left the near-catatonic company of Mrs. Ortega. His heart raced wildly within his chest as the unwelcome sensation of fear began to seep into his consciousness. With his long legs pumping, Hannibal dashed up the massive staircase two steps at a time.

For many years he had been able suppress the accursed emotion underneath the hard-bitten veneer of coldhearted detachment. Hannibal had fought long and hard to not allow his feelings get in the way of his continued survival.

Insulating himself from the horrors of the world, Hannibal Lecter soon learned to turn the fear he felt outward by striking back and becoming the world's horror.

But now the familiar nauseating awareness that he had successfully kept at bay since childhood threatened to overwhelm him like an avalanche. By the time he made it to the top of the staircase, he was frantic, wild-eyed and perspiring profusely.

Hannibal tried desperately to block out the frightful images violently conjured up by his overactive mind's eye. Mishca's screams, the terrible sound of the axe hacking through flesh and bone, and the nightmarish vision of her killers' yellowed rotting teeth gnashing hungrily all came back to the forefront with a vengeance. Suddenly, he found himself struggling for every breath as his lungs constricted.

On the verge of collapse, only panic induced adrenaline urged him on. He could not allow his Murasaki to endure the same fate that had claimed his dear sister!

_Sadistic bastard! If any harm befalls my beloved, I will take supreme pleasure in gouging out your eyes. I will use all of my skills to slice that counterfeit smile right off that smug face of yours and make you suffer agonizing torture right before you pathetically beg to end your wretched life! And I will be more than happy to comply with your request!_

Anxiously, Lecter sprinted down the corridor towards Ramon's bedroom praying to whatever deity would listen that he would make it there in the nick of time.

However, by the time he arrived at his destination and flung the door open it soon became apparent that he was already painfully too late…

The room was empty and there was no sign of Lady Murasaki.

There were, however, indications of an obvious struggle. Books and papers had been strewn about. The writing implements that once graced the humble looking desk were also scattered onto the floor to and fro like a child's set of pick-em-up sticks.

Shards of jagged glass dripping with the remnants of the foul smelling formaldehyde jutted up from the floor like the razor-sharp teeth of a predatory creature.

And near the broken glass were the bloated disembodied fingers of one of Ramon's victims.

Very quickly, an incredibly vivid scenario of what had transpired in this tiny space started to come together. Somehow, someway Ramon had covertly made it back to the vineyard after discovering Hannibal's inquiries regarding his work schedule.

_The son-of-a-bitch must have accurately guessed that Murasaki and I would be here trying to find substantiation of his culpability. So he raced back here to try and thwart my efforts. But in doing so, he found something even better when he caught my lady unawares. _

_More than likely he is now using her as leverage against me. She is the bait meant to draw me to him! _

Jolts of nervous energy rushed throughout Dr. Lecter's tautly wound body, from head to toe. Clenching his fists, he struggled to keep his anger in check as his nostrils flared.

For the first time in a long time, Hannibal had been rendered incapacitated… powerless by an opponent that had proven himself to be just as ruthless and cunning as he was.

However Ramon was, at best, a poor mimic. A pathetic copy cat delegated to live in the shadow cast by the true master of the craft.

And yet Dr. Lecter felt incredibly stupid and impotent. How could he have allowed sentimentality win out over his superior intellect and logic? In a moment of weakness and blinded by love, Hannibal unwittingly had endangered the one person he gave a damn about in this whole rotten world.

Ramon was astute enough to know that Murasaki was Dr. Lecter's Achilles' heel, the chink in his otherwise impenetrable armor. It was all so clear now, how could Hannibal not have seen it before? All Marquez had to do was observe and wait for the precise moment to pounce.

Clenching his teeth together, Lecter seethed as the horrible realization washed over him. Lecter had practically served Lady Murasaki up to Ramon on a silver platter!

Suddenly racked by guilt and anguish, Hannibal emitted a strangled sob of sorrow.

_I should have never gotten my lady involved! _

Paralyzed by impotence and internalized anger, Hannibal's thought process was in disarray. This, of course was most disconcerting, maddeningly so! Dr. Lecter simply could not accept that this boy, this _amateur _had bestedhim!

The mounting antagonism directed toward his foe caused Hannibal to grind his teeth together. The powerful muscles and bones of his mandibles toiled unconsciously, sharpening the incisors and molars for the kill to come. After a short while, he inadvertently bit down hard on his own tongue. But rather than cry out at the first twinge of discomfort, he welcomed the pain.

And as the tangy coppery warmth of his blood flowed freely into his mouth, Hannibal bit down again…harder this time. Very soon the throbbing ache had the desired effect Hannibal needed so desperately.

_Focus, Hannibal, focus! You will accomplish nothing by losing control! Cooler heads MUST prevail in this precarious situation. Unleashing your rage now will only doom your precious love! You must carefully formulate a plan, and when the moment is right, execute it to decimate your enemy! _

Closing his eyes, Dr. Lecter slowly and deeply inhaled, allowing sweet oxygen to fill his lungs, before expelling the breath. He repeated this action a few more times, until the fury that consumed him eventually subsided.

Calm, cool and collected, Hannibal's eyelids slowly opened to survey the scene before him with a more meticulous eye.

lllll

Lady Murasaki slowly awoke to the pungent stench of dank decay and the faint sound of dripping water. Still within the stranglehold of her drug induced grogginess, Murasaki's eyelids felt terribly weighted down. Her blurry vision tried desperately to pierce through the darkness. But the black shroud that surrounded her proved to be too dense. Vaguely, she became aware of the hard surface she was presently laying upon flat on her back.

_Where am I_, she wondered drearily. Well, wherever she was, at least she was still alive.

Very carefully, Murasaki tried to move. However, she immediately discovered that she had been restrained somehow. Just then she heard the distinct sound of footfalls. Someone was definitely approaching.

Despite the dehydration scorching her throat, she managed to croak out, "Who's there?"

The response was cruel and immediate. Abruptly, the harshly bright illumination from a flashlight was shone directly into her eyes.

Groaning in pain, Murasaki tightly squeezed her eyes shut to block out the light.

When she heard the sarcastic tenor of Ramon Marquez's voice, her heart plunged into despair. "Lady Murasaki…it's time for your wakeup call!"

Struggling against her restraints she snarled at her abductor. "Stop shining that light in my face, you _bastard_!"

"Oh…how very rude of me, Madame Lecter. Please, allow _me_ to remedy the situation." Again there was that mocking tone grating on Murasaki's last frazzled nerve.

"Let me go!" she shouted as the subdued glow of a kerosene lamp gradually filled the room.

Although he was cast mostly in shadow, the lady could finally see the face of the boy that had drugged her then dragged her off to parts unknown.

Cautiously, Ramon drew near, smiling smugly all the while.

"Now why would I want to do that?" he asked coyly. "Besides, we have to get you ready for the ball, Princess. Your Prince Charming will be here soon to try and save you. Not that it will do him any good…you'll be dead _long_ before he shows up."

Ice cold terror ran up and down Lady Murasaki's spin as she doubled her efforts to break out of the fetters that held her down. But try as she might, her efforts soon proved exhaustingly futile.

Panting laboriously and drenched with sweat, the Japanese captive began to whimper miserably as she watched Ramon draw closer with every step he took. Her terror-stricken eyes then observed Ramon reach into his shirt's pocket to carefully pull out a shiny stainless steel scalpel. The glinting metal accentuated the curve and sharpness of the blade.

_Oh God, please no, don't let it end this!_

Trembling all over, she cried out desperately in a last ditch effort to save her skin. "Stay away from me, or I'll…"

Ramon's smile only widened, he was clearly amused by her pathetically empty threat. Flicking his pink tongue between his teeth, he dragged it slowly across his fleshy bottom lip. Then without warning, he swooped down upon his helplessly immobile victim like a bird of prey.

"Or you'll _what_? From the looks of it, you're in no position to make any threats! And don't worry about trying to get out of those ropes. I was a Boy Scout, you know. I sure can tie a mean Timber Hitch knot."

The weight of his body plastered Murasaki, grounding her even deeper on top of whatever surface she forced to lay upon. Holding the razor-sharp edge of the scalpel to her exposed throat, Ramon's dark eyes hungrily took in the splendorous visage that horror had blemished. Gone was the serene porcelain China Doll expression and in its place was the look of frightened quarry longing to escape. He could also smell the stink of the sickly sweet perfume that only fear could produce.

And oh, how she reeked of it!

Closing his eyes, he lowered his face towards Murasaki's. As he grazed a stubbly cheek against the supple milky white flesh of his prey, Ramon let out a sigh of infinite longing. Inhaling deeply, he reveled in the power he now had over her.

With just a flick of the wrist and a clean slice across her pulsing carotid artery, he could take her life in an instant. And just the thought of watching her bleed out as the light in her eyes is extinguished excited him to no end.

Her incessant squirming only managed to add fuel to the fire. As their bodies rubbed together, the friction between them was almost unbearable.

Oh God, did her ears deceive her or did Ramon just groan loudly… unabashedly?

_Disgusting! He's actually becoming aroused by this?_

And sure enough, Murasaki's suspicions were confirmed when she suddenly felt a protruding hardness brush against her hip.

Terrified out of her mind she blurted out angrily, "You disgust me, you piece of filth! When Hannibal finds out you've violated me, he is going to _tear_ the flesh right off your bones!"

Ramon suddenly threw his back to laugh heartily at the woman's ridiculous statement.

"Violate YOU? Don't flatter yourself, Tokyo Rose; I wouldn't fuck you with my best friend's dick! I'm saving the rocket in my pocket for your lover, or should I say MINE."

"You really are mad, aren't you? In case you haven't noticed, he isn't into _boys_, especially ones as vile as you!"

Angered by her haughty comment, Ramon swiftly leapt off of her then viciously slapped Murasaki across the side of her face with the open palm of his hand.

The recently struck woman hissed in pain as the force of the impact caused her to bite down on the inside of her cheek. Almost immediately the bitter tang of blood danced on her tongue. Tears welled in her eyes as her face throbbed.

And yet, despite the pain and humiliation, Lady Murasaki had had won a small victory over her aggressor.

"Did I touch on a nerve, Ramon? Judging from your reaction, I guess I did. What did you think was going to happen? Do actually believe that by eliminating me, Hannibal would somehow fall into your waiting arms? I seriously doubt that. Hannibal… _loves… me! _Do you hear that you stupid, deluded child. He loves me, and there's not a damned thing you can do about that!"

Enraged, Ramon paced in front of her, back and forth like a caged beast. Breathing heavily, his body trembled as his fist tightened around the steel blade of his cutting implement.

"LIAR!" he roared ferociously. "Don't you see? Don't you _understand_?! You're in the way, bitch! Hannibal and I _belong_ together! We're two of a kind! And once I make him see the truth, he won't need _you_ anymore!"

As Ramon spoke, the tighter his hand clutched around the sharp end of the scalpel. Suddenly, he groaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain as he felt the blade bite deeply into his skin. Undeterred by his self mutilation, Ramon Marquez smiled broadly. And as the blood from his hand trickled down the side of his jeans, Murasaki could clearly see the madness flickering within the sinister pits of his eyes.

Afterward, Ramon started to advance on her again. A loud gasp slipped past her dry cracked lips when she saw the way he was looking at her. Ramon's cherubic face now bore a ghoulish expression, rendering him inhumanly unrecognizable. Without a shadow of a doubt, Murasaki was truly in the presence of a monster, of Evil itself.

Slowly, he lifted his bleeding hand, while the glint of the steely blade flashed brightly against the backdrop of gloom. As he prepared to strike, Lady Murasaki began to scream for her life.


	27. Chapter 27

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Well, my patient and loyal readers as much as it pains me to announce this, it appears that we are nearing the end. And sadly, it will not be a very happily ever after for our friend the Good Doctor and his lovely Lady…

This chapter will be followed by two others and then an epilogue. For everyone that has read this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This story has truly been a labor of love for me.

And now without further ado I give you…

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

A concerned Guillermo Ortega slowly drove his blue Ford pickup loaded with supplies up to the gates of the winery. He had already seen the strange black car parked just outside the front entrance from half mile away.

Its mere presence was threatening…authoritative. The way the sedan just sat there like a silent sentinel under the large shady oak tree near the gateway made the tiny hairs on the back of Guillermo's neck stand on end.

Something was definitely wrong.

And as he passed right along side the mysterious vehicle, he intentionally peered inside to get a better look at its occupants. What he saw quickly confirmed his immediate suspicions. The freshly pressed non-descript gray suits, the neatly combed hair and the do-gooder expressions displayed across the chiseled clean shaven faces were dead give aways.

Guillermo certainly knew a policeman when he saw one. And these two _pendejos _had "cop" written all over them.

lllll

In his younger days, long before he had met and married Jacinta, Guillermo he had been a full-fledged member of the _Latin Lords_, one of the meanest, most dangerous gangs in East L.A. And in 1922 the _Lords_ had ruled the _barrio_ with their own brand of criminal terror.

A 15 year-old Guillermo, anxious to prove himself a man, had quickly risen through the ranks of street thugs and delinquents by knocking over a few gas stations and liquor stores to keep the gang supplied with much needed cash. With his stolen Saturday night special, he descended upon the unsuspected neighborhood shop owners and relieved them of their hard-earned money.

And if any of his victims resisted…well, he had done what was necessary to get what he wanted. Roughing people had been no big deal in to those days. Besides the gang had demanded and expected that of him.

Feeling pain and bringing it onto others had been a rite of passage, a bloody initiation into the way of the streets. And for young Chicanos of that era, it was a way to fight back against a system that resented and discriminated against their people.

Armed robbery, assault and battery were some of the charges he had been slapped with while Guillermo was still a juvenile. They were serious crimes that if committed by an adult, would have bought them a long stretch in San Quentin. But due to overcrowding at Juvenile Hall, along the teary pleas of his long suffering widowed mother, the courts had continually let him off with a warning or probation.

Free as a bird, Guillermo had been unleashed onto the city streets, unrepentant and ready to commit his crimes all over again.

And as Guillermo grew older, his transgressions had escalated in frequency and brutality. The liquor stores and filling stations had rapidly become things of the past, kiddy stuff.

And while most kids his age had been preparing for their high school commencement, Guillermo, who had dropped out of school in the 5th grade, also celebrated a graduation of sorts, to breaking and entering.

Home invasions were where the big money was. His favorite pastime had been to target the houses of little old ladies that lived alone.

Luckily for him, most of the blue-haired _viejas_ had lived through the Crash of '29 and the Great Depression that followed, so they didn't trust banks. The unwary ladies had always left him plenty of money stuffed underneath their urine stained mattresses and old pieces of jewelry lying around just begging to be taken.

Guillermo's M.O. had always been the same. He'd stake out a house for couple of days, observe the tenant's comings and goings with callous scrutiny, as his dark eyes would search for vulnerable points of entry.

And when his intended victim would leave the house to run errands at the drug store or supermarket, that's when he'd strike. Sometimes he'd slither in through a slightly open bedroom window or if he was really lucky, he could saunter in through the backdoor, unseen by the neighbors' prying eyes. And then he'd go to town by ransacking the dwelling in search of the valuables.

For months he had gotten away with his crimes. With no one around, it was in and out. No fuss, no muss. It was perfect!

But one day, the young criminal's lucky streak had come to a screeching halt. He had been in the middle of another routine robbery when he heard the backdoor open and close. Then the distinct sound of shuffling feet could be heard echoing throughout the small house as someone made their way to the kitchen.

Slowly, he had withdrawn his loaded weapon from out of the back of his pants. Next, Guillermo had quietly tiptoed down the darkened hallway to investigate. Peering around the corner, he had seen the elderly homeowner; her back turned him, busily putting away her groceries into the refrigerator.

"Shit!" he had cursed under his breath.

Although she hadn't seen him yet, she was going to, eventually. He had to find a way out of there and fast. But all of the windows in the house had been sealed shut by caulking, and the front door was out of the question. He couldn't just waltz out into the front yard in broad daylight. The pesky neighbors would have seen him for sure!

Nope, there had only been one way out and it was through the backdoor. So against his better judgment, he had made a rather hasty and foolhardy decision.

With a rebel's yell, Guillermo had swiftly gone around the corner to ambush the poor defenseless woman. Wasting no time, he had grabbed her from behind. At first, his victim had struggled with all her might to break free from the stranglehold around her neck. But when the cold hard metal of a gun's barrel had pressed deeply into her right temple, she became as docile as a lamb.

"Now listen up, _Abuela_! You're gonna stay nice and quiet while I make my get away, _comprendes_? 'Cause if you don't keep your yap shut, I'm gonna shut it for you!"

Too fearful to speak, the woman had demonstrated her submission by violently nodding her head up and down.

He really didn't want to hurt her, so he was relieved when the woman had complied so quickly. "Good, now when I count to three, I'm gonna let you go. And when I do you better not scream. I just wanna get out of here, okay?"

With a soft Spanish accent the woman had agreed. "Okay."

Guillermo had taken a deep breath then he began his countdown…

"One…"

With his victim still firmly in his grasp, he had dragged her across the faded linoleum floor, inching his way closer to the backdoor and the freedom that waited beyond it.

"Two…"

He had been so focused on his escape that Guillermo failed to notice when the wily old woman had sneakily slipped a large kitchen knife off the counter at the exact moment he had attacked her. Holding the knife's wooden handle tightly within the grip of one of her withered hands, the elderly lady had waited for the right moment to use it.

And when they had finally reached the door…

"Three…"

In a split-second, with all the strength she could muster, the robbery victim raised the knife then sunk its sharpened blade deeply into Guillermo's left thigh.

He had immediately howled like a wounded animal as the searing pain quickly spread out from the point of entry to the entire length of Guillermo's leg like wildfire. The wound inflicted upon him was long and deep and it had bled like a motherfucker!

Enraged and bleeding profusely, he savagely pushed the frightened woman away from him. Seeing her chance to escape, she quickly tried to hobble away.

But Guillermo, intent on revenge, swiftly lifted his pistol and fired one shot straight into the woman's retreating back. To his horror, the bullet had lodged itself into her frantically beating heart, killing her instantly. Then, like a sack of potatoes, her now dead body had unceremoniously slumped face down onto the clean linoleum floor.

The sight of her blood, warm and crimson, pooling around the woman's fallen form sickened Guillermo beyond belief. He was struck with the sudden and horrible realization that he had committed the ultimate crime. He had killed someone.

Racked with guilt, Guillermo started to cry. He hadn't meant to do it, but she had hurt him.

"You stupid old bitch, why did you make me kill you?" he had yelled at the dead woman.

The only reply he received was the deafening silence of the small kitchen that was now a murder scene. And then a moment later he heard the sirens blaring in the distance.

Despite the pain ripping through his thigh, Guillermo had forced himself to get out of the house as fast he could.

He had gotten as far as the white picket fence that separated the backyard from the gritty alleyway before a police officer, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, tackled him to the ground.

And then After his rights were read to him, he was hauled down to the local precinct where he was fingerprinted and booked.

A brief hospital stay had shortly followed to ensure that he would survive his injuries. It hadn't taken long for Guillermo to become intimately acquainted with the State of California's judicial system and eventually the inside infamous San Quentin Prison.

During his stint there, Guillermo had quickly learned that he wasn't the toughest, meanest _cholo_ on the block anymore. Behind prison walls, even the most hardened criminal would fall prey to the horrors of long-term incarceration. And the one time bad-ass gang-banger had been no exception.

Everyone locked up in that hell hole had been an animal, inmate or guard, it made no difference. And Guillermo had received double helpings of abuse from both camps.

If it hadn't been for the prison chaplain, he would have died in that place. Chaplain Reynolds had been only person in San Quentin to show Guillermo any kindness.

Thinking back, if it hadn't been for that _gringo_ preacher, Guillermo would have never turned his life around.

After weeks of resisting his preachy talk, something about the chaplain's sermon one Sunday morning had touched Guillermo's heart.

"Listen to me my brothers" the clergyman had said, "Only through Jesus can a man can start over with a clean slate. All you have to do is ask Him into to your hearts and l promise you, your lives _will _change!"

Maybe it had been the promise of redemption or the overwhelming need to be forgiven…but whatever the reason had been, Guillermo Ortega cast fear and doubt aside and got down on his knees humbled and repentant.

It was in that tiny prison chapel that the one time gang banger accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior with a penitent cry. From that day on, Guillermo, who had been known as a trouble maker and wise ass on the inside, soon transformed himself into a model prisoner.

And his conversion had not gone unnoticed by Chaplain Reynolds or the Parole Board.

When he was finally paroled for good behavior, Ortega had already served six hard years of a 15 year sentence. His experiences on the inside had certainly changed him. But he firmly believed that his life had changed for the better.

Thanks to Reynolds, Guillermo had found quickly work once he was on the outside. It had been a modest job, as a field hand planting and harvesting grapes at the San Mateo Vineyard. And no matter how back breaking it had been, it was an honest day's living and he was thankful for it.

Then one day when he set his eyes on the winery owner's daughter, Jacinta, Guillermo knew in an instant that she was the woman that God had set aside for him. It had taken a lot of prayers and persistence on his part to woo the proud young woman. But when she had seen the sincerity of his intentions in those great big caramel colored eyes, her heart soon melted.

However, convincing her Papa and Mama that their precious daughter be given away in marriage to a man with a less than stellar past, had been another matter entirely. More than a few loud objections had been raised along with threats of Guillermo's expulsion from the vineyard despite his exemplary work record.

Again, Guillermo had turned to his new found faith for guidance and strength. He had asked the Lord for a sign. And very soon his prayers had been answered when Jacinta's father had taken ill during the winery's most crucial time, _la vendinia_, the grape harvest.

And with both of Jacinta's brothers living abroad in Mexico and Spain, the responsibility of ensuring that all of the vineyard's crops were picked had fallen to the women. Jacinta's mother, who had not paid much attention to her husband's business affairs, was at a complete loss.

Jacinta, however, every bit as shrewd as her father, saw this as a golden opportunity for her lover, Guillermo to finally prove himself worthy of her hand.

Encouraged by Jacinta, Guillermo had quickly rallied all of the workers under his leadership. And by working right along side of them, they not only yielded enough grapes for that year's harvest, they had done so in record time.

And thanks to Guillermo's fortitude and hard work, San Mateo had earned a tidy profit that year, a fact that Jacinta wouldn't let her father forget. Begrudgingly, the stubborn old man had finally consented to the marriage.

"Don't make me regret this," he had told his future son-in-law.

And happily until his death at the ripe old age of 83, he never did.

lllll

Now, as Guillermo exited his truck, he cast a suspicious gaze toward the so-called undercover policeman sitting in their parked car. Without giving the matter another thought, he adjusted the belt cinched around his rather rotund middle, then walked over to the car at a steady determined pace.

Standing just outside the passenger's side of the car, Guillermo tapped on the smooth glass of the window then motioned to the man peering out at him to roll it down.

"Yes, sir how can I help you?" asked one of the men.

Nervously running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair, Guillermo ask hesitantly, "You two are cops, aren't you? What are you doing outside the gates of my property?"

The driver leaned over to address him this time. "I'm sorry sir, but we are not at liberty to discuss the details of our assignment. It's police business."

Not accepting the man's response as a satisfactory answer, Guillermo angrily fired back. "Well listen here, this is my front gate and the tree you're sitting under happens to be on my land! So unless you two pencil necks have a warrant or something, I suggest you start heading down the road and _pronto!_"

The two officers exchanged glances before they decided to speak to Guillermo again. There was something about that shared fleeting look that set off the alarms of panic.

"Okay, you two need to let me in on what is going on, right now!"

After another moment's hesitation the driver spoke again. "Mr. Ortega, we've been asked to keep up surveillance on a murder suspect."

"Murder suspect? What in blazes are you talking about? This is my home, there is no one here that…" While Guillermo's voice trailed off, his eyes opened wide as a terrible thought crossed his mind.

"Oh dear, God, Ramon!" he whispered to no one in particular.

Perplexed by Guillermo's reaction, the passenger asked, "What did you say?"

Guillermo babbled on, "Ramon, my nephew Ramon, he's the one you're after right?"

Shaking his head, the passenger refuted Guillermo's claim. "No, it's Dr. Lecter. He's the one we've been asked to keep an eye on. He's been suspected of the double homicide committed at the Napa River Inn."

Guillermo knew all about the murders, having read about them in the paper just this morning. He had even asked Ramon about the incidents. His nephew had simply shrugged his shoulders and gave him that creepy smile that always seemed to make Mr. Ortega's skin crawl. Then Ramon had prepared to go to work as if he didn't have a care in the world, leaving his uncle with a gut feeling that the boy knew more about the killings than he had let on.

Furthermore, it had been hard for Guillermo to believe that the nice young doctor who had been a guest at his vineyard yesterday afternoon, could have commited those atrocities. But then again, anything was possible in this sick twisted world. Ortega was living proof of that.

"What, I don't understand! Why would you be sitting outside my house? Dr. Lecter isn't here!"

The driver gulped before he replied. "Uh, I beg to differ, sir. Dr. Lecter, along with his lady friend, has been inside your home for the better part of an hour. We've been waiting for him to leave. But we haven't seen hide or hair of him since your wife let him inside."

Before the officers could detain him any further, Guillermo began to run towards the iron gates in a full blown panic. All the while, he mentally berated himself for leaving his wife alone for so long.

It was bad enough that he had to keep such a watchful eye over that little creep of a nephew of hers. Although his Christian duty was to help Ramon, he knew that boy wasn't right, and he never would be.

But now Jacinta had been vulnerably exposed to a suspected murderer, and he had not been there to protect her!

After unlocking the gates with an unsteady hand, Guillermo flung them open not bothering to close them behind him. Frantically, he lumbered toward the hacienda, his breaths wheezing in and out of him in short erratic puffs. All he cared about was getting to the house before anything happened to his wife. He didn't even notice that the officers had left their vehicle and were now running a short distance behind him.

As the anxious little man continued to race towards his home, he prayed most earnestly.

_Oh God, please I beg You, keep my Jacinta safe! I ask this in Your Son's Name!_


	28. Chapter 28

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Guillermo Ortega burst through the massive wooden double doors that served as the front entrance to the hacienda, as he anxiously began to call out to his wife.

"Jacinta!" he shouted. "Where are you, _mi amor_?"

Guillermo was prepared to go from room to room and tear the house apart until he found her.

However, his valiant quest was immediately squashed before it commenced, when to Guillermo's relief and surprise, he suddenly saw Jacinta. There she was, standing in the center of the foyer with a blank expression on her unusually pallid face. Her dark brown eyes appeared vacant and devoid of any emotion as they stared off into eternity.

Concerned, Guillermo quickly walked over to his wife as the two winded officers spilled into the house with their weapons drawn.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Ortega?" the taller of the two asked as he and his partner carefully approached the couple.

Guillermo spared him a quick glance followed by a curt nod before gently placing his hands on Mrs. Ortega's shoulders. His eyes welled up with unshed tears as they frantically searched Jacinta's for that familiar spark of dynamism he had known and loved all of these years.

But sadly he found no life in the empty hollowed-out gaze that seemed to go right through him.

As the police officers looked on, Mr. Ortega pleaded with his wife to speak to him. "_Jacinta, soy yo, Guillermo_. Please talk to me, my love. What's happened to you?"

When she didn't answer him straight away, he gripped her shoulders more tightly, and then began to shake his wife in an attempt to jar her out of her trance-like state.

After three good hard tugs, Mrs. Ortega's eyelids began to flutter when the sense of stupefaction was abruptly exorcised from her body.

She shook her head while her vision gradually acclimated itself to the familiar surroundings of her home. And when her beloved husband's face finally came into focus she cried out with relief, "Oh, Guillermo! Thank God you're home!"

Jacinta immediately threw her arms around her spouse's neck and held him tightly as he tried his best to comfort her. She was trembling all over. And it became quite evident to Guillermo that she was terribly frightened about something.

Slowly, he pulled away from her to ask, "_Mi amor_, tell me what is going on? I know that Dr. Lecter has been here. Where is he now?"

Looking up at her husband, Jacinta appeared perplexed. "Dr. Lecter? I don't know…he was here one moment with me… and then he was gone."

Just then the officers, who had been quietly standing on the sidelines, made their presence known. "Where did he go, Ma'am?" one of them asked.

Jacinta's eyes flew open even wider as she was astonished by the presence of these two strangers in her home.

"Guillermo, who are these men," she questioned her husband.

"They are police officers… assigned to watch Dr. Lecter," Guillermo replied as tactfully as he could.

The taller of the authorities introduced himself, "Forgive us, Ma'am for the intrusion. I'm Officer Morgan and this is my partner Officer Roy."

Roy nodded his head as he respectfully addressed the lady of the house. "Ma'am."

Still confused, Jacinta looked to husband for answers. "I don't understand. What do they want with Dr. Lecter?"

However, it was Morgan that beat Guillermo to the punch. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to be so abrupt, but we need to find Dr. Lecter. We have reason to believe that he is still on the premises."

Suspicious, Jacinta's eyes narrowed as she looked at the two policemen. "Why do you need to find him? What has he done?"

This time Guillermo responded to his wife's queries. "He's suspected of murder, Jacinta. Actually _two_ murders, the ones that were committed at the Napa River Inn."

Jacinta's hand flew to her mouth when the sudden realization that a killer was still stalking her home gripped her. Gasping, she exclaimed, "Oh my God!"

Officer Roy could see that the woman was visibly shaken by having been in such close proximity to the suspect. He truly felt sorry for her, but he and his partner needed to press her for answers nonetheless.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but we need to know what he said to you."

Jacinta bit her bottom lip nervously as she tried to recall her conversation with Lecter. The details were fuzzy at best, but there was one factor that stood out clearly in her mind.

"Ramon!" she said suddenly. "Dr. Lecter and his wife wanted to know where Ramon's room was!"

Roy's eyes narrowed. "And where is that, Ma'am?"

"Upstairs, it's the fourth door on the right."

Officer Roy quickly snapped his fingers at his partner. "Morgan, get up there and see what you can find. Lecter or his 'wife', I don't care which at this point!"

Morgan acknowledged the command with a brisk nod. "I'm on it!" He then turned toward the stairs.

As he watched the policeman gradually climb the staircase with gun in hand, a sense of foreboding stabbed through Guillermo like a steely cold blade. In the back of his mind, he had found it hard to believe that the amicable and charming physician had anything to do with these brutal crimes.

When he had read about the killings in the papers, red flags were immediately raised about Ramon's possible involvement. It had been too coincidental that the murders both took place at his nephew's place of employment. Furthermore, one of the victim's had been an employer that Guillermo knew that Ramon had utterly despised.

And given the little bastard's track record…Guillermo feared the worse.

Mr. Ortega, of course, had not discussed his growing suspicions with his wife for he feared upsetting her. Since they had never been blessed with any children of their own, she loved her nephew like a son. And to make matters even more complicated, Jacinta was intensely protective of him. In her eyes, Ramon could do no wrong.

He was her angel, her darling boy.

Of course, Guillermo, being a reformed criminal, saw the boy for what he truly was…a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Even though his own killer instincts had been suppressed for many years by faith in the Lord and his love for his wife, Guillermo still knew a monster when he saw one.

lllll

The way Ramon had butchered that boy, Jimmy Evans, had certainly left no doubt in Guillermo's mind that he was the most degenerate and brutal monster he had ever encountered. He didn't care that there had never been any evidence to convict the little prick. Guillermo knew that Ramon had killed the Evans kid just the same.

It was the way Ramon had devoured every detail of the case as it played out on the front pages of the newspapers. The careful way he would clip out the headlines and lovingly tape them onto the black paper pages of that scrapbook of his that had finally convinced Guillermo of the boy's guilt.

An innocent person wouldn't do that…

Jacinta, completely blinded by the love for her nephew, had attributed Ramon's morbid fascination with Evans' murder to natural curiosity. After all the crime had transpired at his school and a fellow classmate had been killed. It hadn't surprised her in the least that Ramon would want to follow the case so closely.

It had never occurred to her that her precious nephew might have had any involvement in the crime. Jacinta had been absolutely shocked when Ramon quickly became the prime suspect and was summarily arrested for the murder. His accusers had all been fellow students at the school, friends of the dead boy.

And as far as Jacinta Ortega was concerned they were all liars, the lot of them!

They had told the police such horrible things about her Ramon, things that a good Catholic boy like him would never do or say. They even claimed that Ramon liked other boys and had even tried to kiss one of them.

He had been branded as homosexual by his contemporaries, a dirty little _faggot_! But she knew in heart of hearts that could not be true.

Ramon had always been a good boy, sweet and considerate.

His uncle however felt venerated. He had long suspected that there was something not right about that boy.

And throughout the trial he had watched Ramon very carefully for any indications of the monster behind the angelic facade. But there had been no sign of nervousness, agitation or even remorse. No, that boy had just sat there at the defendant's table as cool as a cucumber during the entire proceeding. Even when the gory crime scene photographs had been displayed to an appalled jury, Ramon didn't even bat an eyelash.

And when the verdict had finally been read, the smuggest of smiles had been etched across his lips.

_Not guilty._

The jury foreman had announced the shocking and unexpected decision to everyone present in the courtroom. Jacinta was of course elated over the acquittal. Jimmy Evans' grieving parents on the other hand had been completely devastated by the outcome of the trial. And Guillermo was outraged and fearful. He had been so certain that Ramon would be sent to prison where he would rot for the rest of his miserable days.

Sadly, the evidence in the case had been circumstantial, at best…not enough to convict the accused.

So from that day forth, Mr. Ortega's days and nights had been a constant vigil over his nephew's activities whenever the boy spent his summers at San Mateo.

He would continually ride the boy and kept him busy with plenty exhausting chores around the vineyard. Amidst Jacinta's protests that he had been too hard on Ramon, Guillermo did everything humanly possible to keep the evil that consumed Ramon at bay.

And when the fall school term would finally arrive, a sense of relief would wash over Mr. Ortega. He'd happily send the little creep packing back to his parents' where he would be _their_ problem until the next summer.

lllll

Presently, as his wife continued to be questioned by Officer Roy, Guillermo cleared his throat. The time had come to speak up and reveal what he knew in his heart to be true.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I think there is something you need to know…"

One of Officer Roy's eyebrows shot up as curiosity got the best of him. "Yes, Mr. Ortega?"

Taking a deep breath he shot a weary glance at his wife before he said, "I don't believe that Dr. Lecter killed those people."

Incredulously the investigator retorted. "And how would you know that, sir? All of our evidence points to only one man."

"Yeah, I know. But my gut is telling me it's the wrong man!"

Jacinta, not liking the implications in her husband's tone, hissed at him. "Guillermo…be very careful about what you are about to say."

Mr. Ortega again looked at his wife. He loved her dearly and the last thing he wished to do was to hurt her. But he also had made a commitment with the Lord to do what was right.

_This cross I bear has been carried for far too long…_

"My nephew, Ramon… he is the one you want," he said with quiet decisiveness.

"GUILLERMO, how could you?!" came Jacinta's tearful cry.

Torn by the guilt over distressing his wife, Mr. Ortega pressed on, undeterred.

"He's killed before," he started to explain in a hollow monotone, "A boy from his school. Ramon was acquitted though…there had no hard evidence you see. But I found it…many months later up in his room. It had been taped to the bottom of his dresser!"

"Stop it, Guillermo! Say no more!" Jacinta frantically beseeched her husband.

"What did you find, Mr. Ortega?" Officer Roy asked quietly. Ignoring Mrs. Ortega's desperate pleas, the investigator couldn't help staring sympathetically at the somnolent little man. He then watched as Guillermo's shoulders slumped under the heavy burden that weighed down upon him.

Through her tears, Jacinta shook her head in denial. "No, Guillermo, please do this!"

Mr. Ortega's voice was choked with emotion as he addressed his wife. "_Lo siento, mi vida_. I am sorry."

Afterward, Guillermo turned his dejected gaze toward the officer.

"I am ashamed to even admit this, but shortly after the trial, I broke into Ramon's room. I had a feeling there would be _something_ in there that would point to his guilt.

Sure enough, I found the knife that he used to kill Jimmy Evans with. It had been wrapped up in an old towel and still caked with blood. Ramon probably kept it as a trophy. I knew that I couldn't go to the police with it because it was already too late…"

"_Double jeopardy_, yeah I know all about that. You can't be tried for the same crime twice, even if proof surfaces later on." Officer Roy's voice sounded worn and tired.

_Maybe Mr. Ortega is right, the department was after the wrong man after all, _Roy thought worriedly. He was almost certain that Detective Rizzo wasn't going to be happy about the recent turn of events once he filled him in.

"Tell me, where is your nephew now?" Officer Roy asked hurriedly.

"He is at work, at the hotel as far as I know." Guillermo offered.

Jacinta, on the other hand, was inconsolable as she wept miserably. She would never forgive her husband for being so disloyal.

_Ramon is family, he is like my son! How could Guillermo turn his back on him?_

Officer Roy said immediately, "I'll have to verify that. Is there a phone I can use?"

Guillermo nodded dumbly. "Yes, it's in the kitchen. I'll show you the way."

lllll

Hannibal, meanwhile, had already conducted his search of Ramon's humble looking bedroom. The homo-erotic materials hidden away in the back of the closet had not particularly impressed him, nor had the enormous photographic portrait of his own image hanging over the bed like a religious icon.

Certainly, they were markers of Ramon's latent homosexual inclinations, but nothing to be alarmed about.

The composition book, however… now _that_ had immediately garnered his undivided attention. As his eyes had voraciously perused over page after page of the handwritten text, Dr. Lecter had been enthralled by the powerfully raw emotion conveyed.

_My, my, Mr. Marquez…you have such anger, so much hate, especially toward the fairer sex. What could have happened to you to make you loathe women so vehemently, I wonder? _

The frenzied red-inked scrawl, resembling gaping bleeding wounds, had spoken volumes, confirming what the aspiring psychiatrist already knew about the author's state of mind.

Ramon Marquez was hopelessly and utterly deranged.

And if Dr. Lecter didn't find him, and soon, the boy would most certainly kill Lady Murasaki…if he hadn't done so already.

By the time Hannibal heard the faint sound the footfalls of someone ascending the stairs, he had already discovered the door in bathroom. He was hoping that it would lead to an adjoining room where he could conceal his presence.

What he found however, was even better than he had even dared to hope…

To Hannibal's delight, he came upon a secret passageway with treacherous looking steps that had been carved out of the very stone comprising the hacienda's foundation. Steps it seemed, that plunged straight into the very the bowels of Lucifer's domain.

_So be it, Hell it is_…

Closing the secondary door behind him, Hannibal inhaled deeply then began his descent into the pitch black darkness.


	29. Chapter 29

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Darkness…. there was nothing except the vast pitch black gloom of a yawning, endless void stretching on for what seemed miles and miles below his feet. With no light to guide him, Hannibal relied on his other senses of hearing and touch as he journeyed deeper and deeper into the belly of beast.

Any other man would have turned back by now…

But Dr. Hannibal Lecter wasn't like any other man. No, he was inimitable. Single-minded and focused he moved towards uncertainty with lethal intent, wholly devoid of any apprehensions.

Save one.

The notion of losing his beloved lady was unbearable. If she were to be taken from him, then all that remained of Hannibal's humanity would die with her. He knew that the snarling rabid creature which incessantly clawed away at his carefully constructed veneer would be given a free rein to ravage and devour all that stood in its way.

Hannibal could not allow that to happen! Not after the happiness he had only just attained with his beloved.

Murasaki was the only person on this godforsaken rock that gave a damn about him. She was the flicker of hope, burning bright and true, in his desolate existence. If Death were to claim her, then he would be damned, his soul set adrift forever in oceans of blood.

Time was of the essence, and every second, every minute that ticked by was agonizing. And to his growing frustration, Hannibal appeared to be no closer to finding his love or the man that had stolen her from him.

The ensuing panic germinating at the very core of his being slowly crawled up his spine to seep its poison into his psyche, threatening to cloud his judgment. Urgency pushed him to quicken the pace of his descent. As a result, Hannibal almost lost his footing on the perfidious stone steps once or twice.

Quickly, he regained his balance by gripping onto cold rock-strewn wall that ran alongside the stony stairs. Cursing under his breath for his momentary lapse, he waited a few seconds before resuming his pursuit.

Just then a blast of cold air rushed toward him, stinging his face and tousling his russet colored hair.

_An opening! I must be getting close_, Hannibal thought excitedly. That could only mean that there was a shaft or a cave of some sort nearby.

Combing the few unruly strands that had cascaded in front of his eyes with his long fingers, Dr. Hannibal Lecter began to move toward the source of the chilly bluster with renewed purpose.

lllll

Guillermo Ortega was presently standing in his own kitchen anxiously listening in on the telephone conversation between Officer Roy and a staff member of the Napa River Inn.

The investigator had been momentarily placed on hold while the hotel employee went to confirm Ramon Marquez's work schedule. However, the questions that the investigator asked thus far had been routine, nothing out of the ordinary.

_Was Ramon a good employee?_

_How long had he worked at the hotel?_

_Had Ramon been known to cause any trouble with other staff members or perhaps any of the guests in recent weeks?_

Disappointingly, the answers had been just as typical.

_Yes, he's an excellent worker, a little quiet though. _

_Ramon has been with the Napa River Inn a little over eight months._

_Oh, heavens, no! He's been a model employee, very courteous and helpful._

After a few more minutes of dead silence, the employee had finally returned to the phone.

Guillermo watched the policeman intently, trying to pick up on any clues of what was being said on the other end of the line as the conversation resumed.

"Uh huh…so he was scheduled to work this morning?" deadpanned Officer Roy. He was obviously dissatisfied with the information being relayed to him.

Things took a very interesting turn, however, when he heard the officer say, "Oh really? Ramon went home sick? Approximately what time was that? I see…"

Upon hearing that last tantalizing bit of information, Guillermo inched closer to the officer.

Things got quiet again as Officer Roy listened some more. A few more minutes went by…then the telephone call finally concluded with a gruff, "Thank you for your cooperation."

After hanging up the phone, Officer Roy cast a nervous glance toward an equally anxious Guillermo.

"Mr. Ortega…" he began carefully. "I just spoke with the concierge. He just told me that your nephew reported to work at this morning. Then just 30 minutes into his shift he punched out telling his supervisor he was sick."

Suddenly, Guillermo felt ill himself. If Ramon was not at work, then that could only mean one thing…

It was around that time that Officer Morgan sauntered into the kitchen. "Hey Lou, you might want to take a look at this."

As Roy turned to acknowledge his colleague, a non-descript notebook was being shoved into his hand. Confused, he looked questioningly at his partner before deciding to open the notebook to glance at its contents.

After just scanning a few of the handwritten pages, Officer Lou Roy looked up at his associate with wide-eyed fear. "Where in the hell did you find this Vic?"

"Upstairs…in the nephew's room. Sick shit, huh?"

Lou Roy shook his head in disbelief. "You ain't kidding! Did you find any sign of Lecter or the dame?"

"No, but _somebody_ was up in that room. And it looks like there was a struggle too, judging by the way things were thrown about."

"Damn it! It was the kid or Lecter."

Vic's bushy eyebrows shot up. "You think Marquez is here too?"

"I just got off the phone with the hotel and they said the kid punched out early, went home sick." Lou explained hurriedly.

And as the officers exchanged information, Guillermo Ortega suddenly felt compelled to speak up.

"Excuse me gentleman, but I think I might know where Ramon went."

Both investigators turned towards Guillermo to give him their undivided attention.

"Go ahead, Mr. Ortega. We're all ears." Vic Morgan said encouragingly.

Inhaling deeply, Guillermo tried his best to steel his resolve. With no visible sign of either Doctor or Mrs. Lecter, there was no doubt in his mind that their lives were now at stake. He just had to come right out and say what need to be said before he lost his nerve.

"This house is riddled with hidden corridors that lead to a system of connecting tunnels and caves. They were constructed during the Prohibition when my wife's father was bootlegging wine to Mexico. I guess he didn't want the government to know just how much wine he was actually exporting across the border. So he chose to operate his clandestine business right underneath their very noses, literally."

Guillermo paused to take another breath.

Officer Roy urged him to continue. "Go on, Mr. Ortega, we're still listening."

Nodding at the officers, he resumed. "Well, when Ramon started spending his summers with us, he was put up in the very room he now occupies.

As a boy, he was always getting into mischief. Anyway, one day he discovered a door on the far side of his bathroom. When he asked my wife and me about it, we simply told him that it led to a storage room and that he was not to open the door under any circumstances. Of course the little bastard didn't listen.

Curiosity finally got the best of him, so he found a way to jimmy the lock. And when he did, he discovered that on the other side of that door lay a secret passage way leading down into the tunnels. He started to explore the tunnel system, sometimes staying down there for days at a time. This of course upset my wife very much because she would worry.

But like a bad penny, Ramon would always turn up. He even bragged about finding a hidden burrow that led straight outside. Out of concern for my family's safety, I sent men down there immediately to find the entrance and seal it up. But no matter how hard they looked, it had never been found. Only Ramon knew of its location and he refused to disclose it."

The officers quickly turned to look at each other, both men now understood the full implications what had just been revealed to them.

Vic abruptly said to Lou, "I'm going to find that passage way and go after the kid. I need you to call the precinct and get a hold of Rizzo. We're gonna need some serious back up!"

lllll

Hannibal was getting close, he could sense it. And worse still… he could smell it. The heady scent of freshly spilt blood was in the air, tangy and sweet. If circumstances had been different, Lecter would have allowed the intoxicating bouquet to seduce his senses, whetting his appetite for quivering human flesh.

But now was not the time to indulge in his obscure proclivities. The recognizable yet unsolicited stench simply pointed to one thing which managed to set off alarms of sheer panic.

Irrefutable truth and bitter denial battled heatedly for control as Hannibal's mind refused to reconcile with what his heart already knew.

Hannibal moved faster now, following the trail of death like a relentless bloodhound as his expensive Italian loafers scuffed along the rocky terrain. The shoes were probably ruined at this point, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was finding Murasaki and Ramon.

Then he finally saw it…beckoning to him like a beacon in the night. There, just a few paces ahead of him, the dull orange glow of a lantern or lamp of some sort. And that's when he knew that he had found them at last.


	30. Chapter 30

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Well this is it my friends. After this one, two more chapters to go! I hope you will enjoy reading this installment as much as I enjoyed writing it. And hey, while you're here, throw this girl a bone, will ya?

Please review!

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Chapter Thirty**

A hapless Jacinta Ortega watched as Officer Vic Morgan zipped past her to rapidly ascend the staircase again. For the last 15 minutes she had been quietly eavesdropping on her husband and the two police officers.

And what she had overheard angered her greatly.

It appeared that her traitorous husband had allied himself with the very men that were determined to destroy her nephew. And that was something she could not allow!

_If Guillermo thinks that I'm going to stand by and let these men hurt my boy, then he's got another thing coming to him!_

_He forgets that I was born in this house and I know these tunnels too… like the back of my hand! I have to get to Ramon… warn him if I must and help him get away before it is too late! _

Determined to aid her nephew, Jacinta quickly walked over to the small coat closet located underneath the staircase. Hurriedly, she cast a fleeting look over her shoulder. When she was assured that she had not been seen by her husband or the remaining officer, she sighed with relief.

Next, Jacinta cautiously swung the closet door open, all the while cursing at the oil-thirsty hinges for nearly giving away her current location with their accusatory moans.

Inhaling deeply, Jacinta prayed for courage before hurtling herself forth into the dark confining recesses within. Immediately, her plump little fingers pushed several heavy winter coats and rain slickers out of the way as she moved toward the back of the closet.

Standing on tip toes, her hand roamed the top shelf until it came in contact with the object she had been looking for. Charily Jacinta pulled the Mag-Lite torch off the shelf by its heavy metallic handle. Summarily, the handheld light source was switched on, thus illuminating the confining space for better visibility.

Frantically, Jacinta's hands then began to browse the rear wall. A sense of calamitous exigency coursed through her veins, as she searched for the hidden lever known only to her and her siblings. As children they had used the concealed portal under the stairs to access the subterranean labyrinth built by their father.

It was there that they had played their games of hide-and-go-seek, unseen by the adults that governed their lives. Over time, Jacinta had become intimately acquainted with intricate secrets of the cavernous tunnels.

A broad triumphant smile slowly spread across Jacinta's lips when she felt the familiar metal protuberance jutting out from the upper left hand corner of the closet.

Deftly, she pushed the switch upward with the palm of one hand while holding the flashlight with the other until she heard the recognizable little _click. _The partition soon gave way, sliding open to reveal the infinite shadows that lay beyond it.

lllll

Meanwhile, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stealthily approached the cavern where the warm amber glow was radiating from. The closer he got, the brighter the illumination became. Then suddenly he found himself standing on the outer rim of the cave's mouth.

Fearful of being detected too soon by the foe residing within, the shrewd physician placed the back of his lithe body flat against the man-made stone fortification. Twisting his head sideways, Hannibal dared quick peek inside to get a better idea of what he may be dealing with.

However, the lighting was poor and it cast most of what he saw into deep shadow.

_How disappointing_…

Very soon though, Lecter was rewarded for his covert surveillance when a familiar silhouette suddenly came into view.

Bathed in blood from head to toe, Ramon Marquez stood as rigid as a statue with his back to Lecter. His breathing was labored and heavy, as if the boy had just completed a task of Herculean proportions. There was _something_ laid prone at Ramon's feet, but from his discrete vantage point, Hannibal could not properly identify it.

_Not yet, anyway_…

But there was no mistaking the silvery gleam of the blade Marquez still held in his hand. It too was dripping in crimson, a sight all too familiar to Hannibal's murderous gaze. Soon an irresistible ferocity began to churn away in the pit of his stomach. Snarling like a wild beast, Hannibal gnashed his teeth together; his heartbeat quickened allowing his own blood to course through his veins like a liquid inferno.

The doctor hesitated for just a moment before he decided to lean his head in further for a closer look. But he quickly grew frustrated as Ramon's lean outline continued to obstruct further scrutiny.

Then without warning he moved…

And what Hannibal saw next caused his already erratically beating heart to suddenly sink like a heavy stone underneath the tumultuous waters of grief.

_Oh no, it can't be!_

Denial could be such a tricky emotion. Its narcotic-like effects were already impairing his ability to accept reality as it was being presented to him…

…The world suddenly became brutal, raw, and gory. It was evil in its purest form.

As Hannibal's mind railed against the awful truth, refutation numbed his soul then slowly crept throughout his body, immobilizing him. For what seemed an eternity, Hannibal stood rooted to the ground, his maroon orbs transfixed on the gruesome scene displayed before him.

Try as he might, Dr. Lecter could not turn away from the devastating carnage whose image would be engrained in his memory forever.

His chest suddenly felt constricted as if unseen hands were actually twisting, compressing his lungs with painful pressure.

Was he breathing? Had he remembered to actually take the next breath?

Hannibal finally guessed that he must have since he could now feel the shallow intake of oxygen burn the length of his windpipe. And yet he struggled against the lightheaded sensation that caused his knees to buckle.

Lecter tried to work his mouth, to put his lips and tongue into motion. But he could not bring himself to articulate a single word. Instead he maintained his position, voiceless and stricken, while grief paralyzed his body. Hannibal felt utterly impotent… a useless emotional cripple.

There she was, his precious lady, his only love…savagely vanquished before her time.

And to Hannibal's great sorrow, his broken heart could no longer refute what his bleary eyes beheld.

Lady Murasaki was no more.

Hannibal took what little comfort he could in the solemn knowledge that her face, thankfully, had remained untouched. An almost peaceful expression graced her delicate features as her dead eyes looked heavenward. However, just below that serene countenance, her throat had been slit from ear to ear. Hannibal knew right then that _this _had been the killing stroke that had silenced her screams as she quickly bled out.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued to view her earthly remains, feeling the destructive force of his vengeful wrath ignite within him.

Murasaki had been, for lack of a better term, _desecrated_! Her once beautiful form sullied by the ominous monster hovering above her appraising his own handiwork.

_Bastard! I've witnessed mindless cattle slaughtered more humanely! _

The body now rested flat on its back upon the pebbly ground. The torso, stripped of its clothing, was copiously bloodied and gratuitously mutilated. It was the worst example of human vivisection the young physician had seen in his medical career thus far.

And yet… _something _about the obscenely grotesque exhibit was so alluring, so mesmerizing, it stirred Hannibal's most primal of urges, arousing his bloodlust in spite of his overwhelming despair.

The darker half of Hannibal's psyche, the inner monster whose reptilian brain dictated all of his past deadly exploits, directly recognized Ramon's theatrical endeavor to shock, awe and perhaps ultimately inspire the intended spectator of this macabre opus.

Upon further inspection, Dr. Lecter keenly observed that both breasts had been surgically removed. The incisions were clean and precise, masterful even…only a true artist, such as himself, could have rendered them. In Hannibal's opinion, he was gazing upon a flawless mastectomy.

Begrudgingly, Lecter had to acknowledge the boy's obvious talent with a surgeon's blade. With slight grimace etched across his face, Hannibal mused:

_Ramon wields his instrument very well… too bad I'm better._

Leaning in just a bit further to get a better look, Dr. Lecter nearly swooned over what he saw next. Murasaki's trunk had also been sliced straight down the middle, from sternum to pelvis, in much the same manner of a clinical autopsy.

The flaps of skin had then been pulled back to flaunt the ribcage and the organs housed within. As best as he could tell, the heart and lungs appeared to be still intact. And yet, when Hannibal's eyes slowly traveled down to the lower regions of the cadaver, it was painfully obvious to him that Ramon had taken great liberties with this part of Murasaki's anatomy.

Both the sets of intestines, small and large, had been yanked out of the abdominal cavity, unfurled then lastly looped around the outstretched arms and legs like Christmas garland. The uterus and the fallopian tubes with its attached ovaries had also been carefully removed then set aside the body, leaving the pelvic area barren and hollow. Again Hannibal felt a twinge of admiration for the technique employed by Marquez to perform the impromptu hysterectomy.

_How did Ramon find the time to execute these surgical maneuvers? He must have worked with the speed of a man possessed to achieve these extraordinary results!_

Only one answer came to mind that could possibly explain the incomprehensible therefore quelling Dr. Lecter's morbid curiosity.

Ramon was quite simply a prodigy, a malevolent phenomenon with a keen understanding of human physiology and anatomy.

Killers of Ramon's caliber aren't forged from the scars of a traumatic life-altering event, like Hannibal was. They are bred and _born w_ith an inherent evil, an instinctual need to devour the world and everyone in it.

Someone of Ramon's most considerable skills could exert the maximum amount of pain in the minimum amount of time with the greatest of ease. It wasn't surprising in the least that the boy had elected to sharpen his natural abilities in the medical field.

_It's an appropriate choice. It was the ONLY choice._

The similarities between the two men were uncanny. And if Ramon's latest victim had been anyone else, a nameless, faceless stranger, Hannibal would place a wreath of laurels upon his head for a job well done.

But...Ramon had made a grave error by killing _her. _

Anger and vengeance notwithstanding, Dr. Lecter concluded that the moment had finally arrived to reveal his presence to Murasaki's murderer and ultimately destroy him.

With his own scalpel firmly in hand, Hannibal carefully slithered into the cave. Next, he silently crept up behind Ramon.

Then in one blinding motion, Lecter lunged himself forward, roughly grabbing Ramon's wrist with his left hand while his right arm swiftly went around the boy's throat. With a mighty grunt Hannibal wrenched Marquez's arm upward at an unnatural angle, causing the boy to cry out in great pain.

Afterward, he was silenced when Hannibal's powerful forearm applied just the right amount of strangling pressure to his trachea as the sharpened edge of the surgical knife sliced across a bare cheek. Although Marquez tried to claw away at his aggressor's vise-like grip with his free hand, Hannibal still held on tight.

The doctor only smiled as he continued to pull at Ramon's arm. So vigorous were his efforts that he almost popped the appendage right out of its socket. The boy had no option but to drop his own weapon, which was exactly what Hannibal had hoped to accomplish.

Dr. Lecter then lowered his face to murmur softly in Ramon's ear. His tender lips tantalizingly brushed the outer shell, sending shockwaves of fear and perverse pleasure down Marquez's spinal column.

"Hello, _lover_," Hannibal whispered seductively. "How could you start the party without me?"

Ramon's pitiful response was a series incomprehensible gurgles followed by desperate gasps for breath.

Lecter, pretending not to notice Ramon's current distress uttered his next statement with mock indignity. "I should be hurt …but that's all right. You needn't fret. Now that I'm finally here you can make it up to me, right? Let's have some _real _fun, shall we?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer:**I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Well, my loyal readers…this is the penultimate chapter. I know many of you are still in disbelief over the untimely death of Lady Murasaki. I apologize to those of you that had hoped for a fairy-tale ending. I'm so sorry if I disappointed you.

But may I remind you all that this _is_ a Hannibal story after all…and in his dark world there is no such thing as a happy ending.

**Chapter Thirty-One**

Ramon Marquez continued his frantic struggle to break free from Dr. Hannibal's Lecter's strangling grasp. But no matter how much he thrashed and twisted, it was to no avail. Like a deadly boa constrictor, Hannibal was gradually squeezing his arm tighter and tighter, coiling it around his enemy's throat to cut off his air supply in the process.

Grimacing triumphantly, the ruthless doctor could already feel his intended victim's body go limp in his arms as the boy succumbed to his lethal embrace. Ramon in turn pathetically gasped and wheezed for his next ragged breath. His failing vision was already peppered with the black spots of imminent oblivion.

Ramon was horrorstricken by the inescapable knowledge that death would soon claim him. As his flailing limbs slowed their kinetic jerking, the young medical student gradually resigned himself to his fate.

Feeling utterly defeated and saddened by the awful chain of events that had led to his untimely demise, it was still somewhat astonishing to him to be so outdone by the very man he had obsessed about for so long.

Truth be told, it was quite daunting, extraordinary even.

All the meticulous preparation, managing to get close to the very object of his aberrant fixation, so close in fact, that he could almost taste sweet victory! Weeks had been spent conjuring up the ideal scheme. Ramon had waited incessantly for the right moment to strike out at those had wrong him and in one killing stroke, win the approval of the one man he wished to impress most.

The anticipation had been most unbearable, and if he had been a sane man, Ramon Marquez would have certainly been driven straight into the heart of madness by his perverse quest.

Wretchedly, his efforts for the ultimate payload, to win the whole ball of wax, had all been for nothing!

He had failed…miserably.

And now he was going to die. Nothing could prevent that now, barring divine intervention. Ironically, no deity that Ramon knew of would or could intercede on his behalf. Ramon was no hypocrite and made no bones over of what he was: a loathsome, rapacious creature beyond any redemption that some overly pious god could ever provide.

Salvation was only for the meek, the worthy, and just. His Aunt Jacinta had told him so, many times, over the years. How many hours had she spent in the family chapel, on her knees in front of the unseeing eyes of an alabaster idol, praying for not only Ramon's deliverance, but for her own absolution?

Aunt Jacinta did have much to atone for…but could her _Jesus_ forgive her for transforming a once innocent and impressionable young boy into a raving bloodthirsty monster?

Perhaps not…but at this point Ramon doesn't give a shit about her and the crucial role she played to warp his sense of right and wrong.

Ramon's eyes began to well up with the bitter tears of disappointment and rage. He could actually sense the flickering flame of life being snuffed out of his body. Feeling heart broken and betrayed, only one thought, predominate and unavoidable, reverberated like a continuous echo in his mind.

_Why, Hannibal? Why?_

_You were supposed to be the only one that understood… _

_After all I've done for you and this is how you repay me? We could have gone on… side by side, killing anyone that stands in our way! It could have been just the two of us shoving it right back up the world's asshole for fucking us over so badly!_

_But I guess that's all shot to shit now, huh? Fuck, where did I go wrong?_

lllll

A pensive Detective Frank Rizzo was currently sitting behind the wheel of his unmarked police vehicle. Silently, he drove down the winding unpaved road that marked the last leg of his journey from Los Angeles to the San Mateo vineyard. Behind him trailed a convoy comprised of three squad cars, a paddy wagon and an ambulance.

Seated on the passenger's side of Rizzo's car was a visibly anxious Officer Matt Dougherty. And to the grizzled detective's supreme annoyance, Dougherty had been absentmindedly chewing on his already short fingernails to pass the time.

Sickened by his underling's filthy habit, Rizzo glanced over at him and said rather gruffly, "Do you mind? That's disgusting!"

Dougherty, slightly embarrassed, sheepishly offered up a half-assed apology. "Sorry, sir…just nervous I guess."

The lead investigator simply nodded, turning his eyes back to the road ahead. A few minutes later the winery's brightly painted sign and the tall wrought iron gates finally came into view.

Just on the other side of the gate stood a stoic looking Officer Lou Roy with San Mateo's proprietor, Mr. Guillermo Ortega at his side. Both men quickly opened the gates to allow the law enforcement caravan entry into the cobblestone courtyard.

After bringing all of the automobiles to a complete stop, Rizzo and his team quickly exited their vehicles.

With the head detective leading the charge to justice, the investigative squad swiftly approached their colleague and the vineyard's owner, Mr. Ortega. Standing in the center of the cobbled square, pleasantries were hastily exchanged and after brief introductions were made, Detective Frank Rizzo got right down to business.

"Okay Lou, fill me in. What are we dealing with here?"

Officer Roy immediately brought his superior up to speed while Guillermo nodded his head in agreement, confirming the facts as he knew them to be.

Disappointed over the recent turn of events that resulted in the undesirable possibility of a second murder suspect, Rizzo sighed deeply before turning a wary gaze toward the crestfallen Mr. Ortega.

"So tell me, what makes you so goddamned sure that this nephew of yours is the killer, and not Lecter, Mr. Ortega?"

Looking at the hardened police investigator squarely in the eye, Guillermo said unflinchingly, "Because he's done it before, Detective. There is no doubt in my mind that Ramon murdered those two people at the hotel."

Ortega's overall earnestness and the resolute conviction of his words certainly aroused Rizzo's interest, which the latter man demonstrated with the raising of a curious eyebrow and an encouraging nod.

"Besides, Detective, the boy had every motive to murder Mr. Napier," Guillermo firmly stated.

Hanging on the rotund man's every damning word, Rizzo urged him to continue. "Do tell, Mr. Ortega…"

Sighing under the heavy burden of Ramon's blood soaked history; his uncle by marriage turned a tanned weathered face towards the grizzled investigator.

"Napier was a racist, a bigot of the highest order. The man always gave Ramon a hard time and looked down anyone that wasn't lily-ass white!"

Soon after the Freudian slip had tumbled out of his mouth, Guillermo's face turned beet red from embarrassment. Nervously, his dark brown eyes darted around the courtyard, as the predominately Caucasian police force glared angrily at him.

Knowing that he was painfully outnumbered, the mortified Chicano offered up a hasty apology. "Sorry, no offense."

"None taken," grunted a visibly uncomfortable Detective Rizzo. He had tried his best to sound reassuring, but failed miserably in the attempt.

"Okay, I'll give you that one, but what about the French guy, Popil? What possible motive could Ramon have to kill him?"

Just then Officer Roy spoke up, "Uh, Sir…I think I can answer that. Judging from what we found in the kid's room, we think he's got an unnatural fixation for Lecter."

Rizzo didn't like the sound of the latest development at all. "So what are you sayin', Lou? That this Marquez character is a _fag_ as well as a murdering little creep?"

Blushing deeply from an overwhelming sense indignity, Officer Roy couldn't bring himself look at his boss. When he finally answered him, he grimaced with disgust. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. Ramon's room is a veritable shrine to the Doc. He's even got this humongous picture of Lecter hangin' over the bed. And the _notebook_, Jesus H. Christ, I've never seen anything so twisted in my life!"

Equally discomforted, Rizzo's gravely voice asked, "Where is this notebook now?"

"It's still in the house… on the kitchen counter."

The situation only grew pricklier by the second. And at this juncture the seasoned police veteran wanted nothing more than to get to the heart of the matter. Rizzo longed to dive headlong into the murky yet familiar waters of the crime scene investigation his gut told him already existed.

And after all these fucking years of wading through the cesspool of the criminal mind, his gut had never steered him wrong before.

To explore, analyze and ultimately decipher the convoluted particulars of a homicide always seemed to re-energize Rizzo with the vitality of a man twenty years his junior. But what he really lived for was the relentless pursuit of the remorseless monster. The hunt would quicken the blood, and sharpen his already keen senses.

Murder, mutilations and mayhem, hell of a way to make a living, but Rizzo wouldn't have it any other way.

Presently, he was itching to get inside the deceptively inviting hacienda to probe its secrets, and possibly scrutinize the grisly landscape of yet another homicide.

And if he played his cards right, make the arrest of the century.

llllll

It was done.

His lady, his only love had been avenged.

With cold calculating eyes, Hannibal Lecter watched as the seemingly lifeless body of his latest victim slid out of his arms then land with a dull thud onto the rocky ground below his feet.

With his surgical instrument still in hand, the youthful doctor smiled ghoulishly at dearly departed Ramon Marquez.

"Now my real work begins. You thought it prudent to dissect my lady like one of your lab rats, you miserable _bastard_!" Dr. Lecter spat out venomously as his feet began the methodical approach towards the prone cadaver.

Knowing full well that his words fell on the deaf ears of the dead, it made no difference to Hannibal as he continued spewing his grief and hate in equal measure.

"You _dared_ to put your grubby little mitts on her, didn't you? Couldn't wait to_desecrate_ her beautiful body, splay her open and gut her like a _fish_!"

Then suddenly Hannibal took a momentary pause. Was it to catch his breath and regain his composure?

_Perhaps_.

On the surface it would have appeared that way, but Hannibal knew that there was a much darker, more sinister force behind the transitory lapse.

The precision-like control over his emotions was slipping rapidly. And yet he found the experience to be as tantalizing and stimulating as sexual arousal. It exhilarated him and set his teeth in edge.

And it was at that precise moment that a drastic regression took place. Lecter could actually feel the turning back the evolutionary clock, as the civilized world fell away.

Here, in this dark pit of feral, animalistic emotions Hannibal was at his most dangerous.

With his so-called humanity being stripped from him, his heart began to beat wildly in his chest. The chaotic staccato continued until at last the primal beast that raged within burst forth ferocious and snarling.

The hunger that incessantly gnawed at his insides was growing and he wanted so much to be a slave to its whims. Hannibal smiled as the familiar bloodlust was now hurtling towards him like a great crimson tidal wave. And he welcomed the impending deluge with open arms.

Crouching down on his haunches, Hannibal reached out with his left hand to brush away the loose strands of hair that had fallen over Ramon's face. To the unwary it would have appeared as an almost loving gesture.

And yet the deadly intemt burning in the maroon depths of Lecter's gaze told a very different tale indeed. His were the eyes of a wrath-driven madman, blinded to everything except vengeance. Casting a dreadful gaze at the bountiful banquet of human flesh set before him, the Doctor leaned in closer to his prey to whisper in an unhearing ear,

"Please don't misunderstand me, Mr. Marquez. From a medical standpoint, I did admire your technique immensely! Too bad I had to kill you, you_wretched fuck_! Pity, you would have been a brilliant physician. Almost as brilliant as yours truly…."

_Almost. _

Again he smiled as Lecter looked forward to temporary fulfillment the meal to come would bring him. He quickly turned Ramon's body over until it was lying on its back. Next, he removed the clothing soaked with blood…_Murasaki's blood_.

Lastly, Hannibal raised his scalpel above his head, like an avenging angel, as he prepared to make the first of many incisions on the post mortem tissue.

In the most soothing tone he could muster, Lecter cooed, "Well, Mr. Marquez, since you were so skillful with _your_ blade, please allow me to return the favor! Consider it a professional courtesy!"

But just as he was about to run the sharpen edge of his knife down the dead center of Ramon's shirtless torso, _something_ diverted the doctor's attention away from the task at hand.

At first it was a muted resonance…perhaps an echo of shifting rock. But after a few moments, there it was again. Only this time there was no mistaking the sound. Thanks to his heightened auditory senses, Hannibal had distinctly heard the scuffling of feet. Immediately, Lecter's body became as rigid as rod, all five of his senses were on high alert, ready to confront this new intruder and do his worse.

But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next…


	32. Chapter 32

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

Well, my loyal readers…this is the final chapter! All the months of angst and anticipation have boiled down to this harrowing and hopefully entertaining conclusion.

There will be an epilogue after this, but this is pretty much the end.

Thank you my friends for sticking it out with me for so long. Your loyalty and support have meant the world to me!

And now without further ado, I bring you…

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Dr. Hannibal Lecter whipped his head around just in time to see none other than Jacinta Ortega lunging toward him screeching like a vengeful banshee. Her once pleasant face now bore a vicious scowl, a twisted mask of anger and loathing.

As Jacinta continued on her collision course with her intended target, her once carefully coiffed black hair had somehow become loose. The tangled raven tresses, streamed wildly behind her to and fro, resembling a hissing nest of deadly vipers.

Medusa herself could not have appeared more terrifying.

In fact Jacinta's presence had been so unexpected, so startling, that the usually unflappable Lecter momentarily froze in mid-action, his agile lean silhouette rendered immobile by the accursed glower of the modern-day Gorgon.

Nonetheless, the Lithuanian nobleman knew that hesitation, even for a fraction of a second, would undoubtedly bring about his doom. Although Jacinta's fury was fueled by emotional anguish, she was potentially lethal. Hannibal was certain though that she would be a clumsy opponent at best and perhaps easily defeated.

But the moment to strike had to be accurate…precise or Hannibal would be the one to fall. So he waited, bided his time until an opportunity presented itself.

Crouched low to the ground near Ramon's motionless form, Dr. Lecter remained where he was. Still tightly gripping his trusty razor-sharp surgical instrument, the gleaming blade now hovered in the mid-air, suspended above the flesh he had intended to carve and devour at his leisure.

Most men in his current predicament would experience a great sense panic and overwhelming uncertainty. But for Hannibal, he only felt fascination and awe for the woman barreling toward him. She was so fierce, so willing to do _anything_ to avenge her fallen nephew. Somewhere in Lecter's twisted psyche he found himself actually empathizing with her, followed by a twinge of guilt.

Nevertheless, a misguided sense of sympathy would not stop him from killing her. And kill her he would, of that Hannibal had no doubt.

Distraught and half-crazed out of her mind, Jacinta charged blindly towards him like an out of control rhinoceros. She was definitely a far cry from the hospitable hostess Hannibal had just met the day before.

With eyes blazing brightly, her hands were already raised in a striking pose, her fingers curled like razor-sharp talons, ready to gouge out the mocking burgundy orbs of her nephew's killer.

"_Hijo-de-perra! _I'm going to fucking KILL you for hurting my boy!" Jacinta snarled like a hungry lioness.

lllll

"Alright, Dougherty and Roy, you two search the house and the outside grounds for any sign of Lecter, Marquez or the two missing women. Take the rest of these officers with you and spread out! And if one of you sees anything, _anything _at all, come and get me, understood?"

Officers Lou Roy and Matt Dougherty acknowledged their orders with a terse nod. They quickly divided the men into two of groups: the first would rummage around the main residence from top to bottom. And the other team would conduct a comprehensive exploration of the sprawling winegrowing estate.

Satisfied that his instructions would be carried out to the letter, Rizzo then turned his attention to his partner, Officer Morgan.

With a steely look in his eyes and grim determination emblazoned across his jowly bulldog mug, he bellowed in a gravelly tone, "Alright, Morgan come with me! We're gonna go down into the tunnels."

Frowning, he suddenly remembered that Guillermo Ortega was still present in the foyer. As an afterthought, the grizzled crime investigator decided to spare an annoyed glance at the visibly shaken man.

"I guess you'd better come with us too. You'll have to lead the way through that maze you told us about."

"But I-I don't…" Guillermo's protests died in his throat when he unwittingly witnessed Rizzo's exasperation detonate into full blown rage. The last of his fleeting patience had finally run out.

Standing toe to toe with the cowering vineyard owner, Rizzo shoved his face right up to Guillermo's, effectively intimidating him.

"Now you listen here, _pal_! You're gonna take us down there, whether you like or not. 'Cause if you don't I'll haul your ass down to the station for hindering a police investigation so fast, it'll make your head spin!"

Ortega's stomach lurched when he got a huge whiff of the Detective's foul-smelling coffee tinged breath, but he didn't dare say a word. Instead he mutely nodded his consent, and then said meekly, "Come this way…I know of a short cut under the stairwell. There's a coat closet there with a false wall. It will take us to the heart of the catacombs."

Ortega's submission finally brought what appeared to be a smile on the police veteran's face.

Addressing his partner once again, Rizzo's boisterous voice rang out, "Okay, Morgan! You heard him. Let's get goin'!"

lllll

Dr. Lecter was the epitome of deceptive stoicism. His face was unreadable, totally impassive… save for the pair of ruby eyes that seemed to dance with devilish delight.

Silent, unmoving, and deadly, his appetite had definitely been whetted for the kill and the bloodletting to follow. Hannibal was the picture-perfect predator waiting for its unwary prey.

_Wait for it Hannibal,_ whispered the seductive inner voice of his reptilian psyche. _Let her get just little closer._

Jacinta Ortega, who was now just inches away from certain death, had ceased to be a person in his eyes. She was fair game, just another victim to claim within his dark embrace.

And claim her he would.

Just then, he felt the delicious tingle of anticipation quiver throughout his tightly wound body. Lecter could almost _taste _the delectable tang of warm fresh blood that would soon gush forth like an eternal spring into his waiting, gaping mouth.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to lick his dry cracked lips with his long wet tongue.

Once again he heard the voice that spoke only to him. It was a soft alluring sigh that caressed his senses provocatively

_Patience, Hannibal, _it crooned softly to him…like a mother to a child.

As his bloodlust intensified, Hannibal's imagination began wander the perilous terrain between madness and clarity. Suddenly images of his beloved mother, his sweet sister Mischa and of course his darling Murasaki flashed before his eyes, conjured up by his deluded grief-stricken mind.

At first they appeared to him as translucent beings. They were celestial benevolent creatures of spiritual illumination, the holiest of trinities as far as Hannibal was concerned.

Floating amongst the clouds of Lecter's imaginary heavenly landscape, they moved closer to him, smiling lovingly at their Hannibal as their arms reached out to embrace him. Mischa touched him first by tenderly placing a tiny pale hand on his cheek.

_Patience brother, _she whispered reassuringly. Her sweet baby's voice gave him the strength and comfort he so desperately needed as he affectionately gazed into her eyes, the color and shape of them so similar to his own.

Next, he saw his mother smiling sweetly at him, nodding her chestnut- haired head encouragingly._ Do not worry, my son. She's almost right where you want her to be._

It warmed him to know he had his mother's blessing

But when the one woman whose approval he wished to garner most of all silently approached him, he was unreservedly dumbstruck.

There she was, his Lady…a vision of ethereal beauty, a goddess to behold for all the ages. No words passed between them, for none were necessary. Murasaki knew full well that she had been granted exclusivity to access the secrets of his tortured soul. And as her moist dark eyes penetrated his burgundy gaze, she took possession of his heart which now swelled with overwhelming love for her.

Slowly, she moved in closer, and Hannibal knew instinctively that Murasaki was about to bestow her love with a kiss of farewell.

He would gladly die for that kiss; he would kill for it if necessary!

When their lips lightly touched, tears stung his closed eyes as he was cruelly reminded of all he had lost in his wretched life.

As Murasaki pulled away, breaking the kiss, Hannibal emitted a sigh filled with regret and sorrow. But lament soon gave way to the irrefutable wrath raging inside, threatening to boil over like a great river of molten lava, running red and hot.

Then that's when he heard it…the distinct command from beyond the grave incessantly buzzing in his ear like an annoying insect.

_Do it, Hannibal! Eviscerate her!_

_Gouge out her eyes! Devour her spleen!_

_Make her pay for what she's done!_

_Go on, do it! DO IT NOW! _

And then at last… the opportunity, the motive and the means had all converged, fused together into one glorious moment of swift justice and sweet revenge.

As Jacinta closed the gap between them, Hannibal abruptly rose from his crouched position to roughly grab her shoulder with his left hand, while his right hand savagely plunged the entire length of the scalpel's blade deep into the fleshy pouch of her abdomen.

The corners of his full-lipped mouth turned up into a triumphant grin as he watched, with perverse pleasure, Jacinta's bloodshot eyes bulge out of their sockets like a slaughtered cow.

Desperately, she tried to speak, to put into words the hate and fear she was feeling at that precise moment. But sadly for her, a sudden surge of hot blood, thick and wet began to rise to the back of her throat before it began pouring out the sides of her yawning mouth.

The only utterances heard throughout the cavern were the terrible gurgling sounds, as the dying woman struggled for her next breath. However, try as she might, Jacinta Ortega would not prevail over the inevitably of drowning in her own blood.

It was with genuine fascination that Hannibal watched Jacinta grapple with death. He was suddenly reminded one of his favorite poetic passages and deemed it highly appropriate for the present occasion.

_Do not go gently into that goodnight. _

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light!_

Her blood soiled mouth pitifully made one final attempt to articulate her last words. Was she praying for absolution, an act of contrition perhaps in a pitiful stab to be forgiven of her earthly transgressions?

Nevertheless, Jacinta's lips and tongue felt weighed down, working against her to silence the supplications for a last minute reprieve from an eternity in Hell.

Placing a finger to her crimson drenched mouth Hannibal smiled down at Jacinta. "Hush, now Mrs. Ortega," he softly crooned in her ear. "It will all be over soon."

But the need for exoneration was still there, tangibly apparent. Hannibal could see it deep within the dark hallow pits of her eyes, frantic and pleading.

Shockingly, Hannibal found himself suddenly overcome with a sense of pity. It was a fleeting sensation of sympathy that anyone would experience if they were to witness a wounded dumb animal left to die in the street.

There was only one thing left to do…put Jacinta out of her misery.

Without a word of forewarning, he took a firm grasp of the blade's handle. A remorseless Hannibal Lecter smiled sadistically as he mercilessly shoved the surgical implement even deeper into Jacinta, setting in motion a series of involuntary convulsions and screams as her hands desperately clutched the front of Hannibal's shirt in a final show of strength. Subsequently, the skilled doctor smoothly ran the blade down her lower body, effectively slicing her belly wide with surgical precision.

A final blood curdling shriek followed by a drawn out death rattle passed through Jacinta's wide opened mouth as her innards, red and steamy, spilled out of her body resembling sausage links in a butcher's shop window.

Hannibal growled hungrily when his tongue flicked out to lick at the fine crimson spray that had splattered across his face and mouth as result of the disembowelment. Its coopery tang aroused his already voracious cannibalistic appetites.

Deciding he had forestalled his meal long enough, he hurriedly laid Jacinta's body back onto the ground. His skillful hands worked quickly to peel back the layers of clothing to reveal plentiful tanned flesh that lay beneath.

It was a veritable feast for the eyes.

A slight quiver of glee shot up his spine as Hannibal proceeded to lower his watering mouth toward the cavernous incision that had split Jacinta's abdomen in two.

_Oh, I am going to enjoy this!_

But as he was about to take the first of many hearty bites, Hannibal Lecter was rudely interrupted by a surprising blow to the back of his skull.

Hannibal's head filled with pain and then the world blinked out of existence.

lllll

An exhausted and equally incensed Detective Rizzo, with flashlight in hand, still trailed closely behind Guillermo Ortega. He and Morgan had been scouring the tunnels beneath the main house for an undetermined amount of time. And yet they hadn't uncovered a thing! Not a goddamned thing!

No sign of Lecter, Marquez or the two missing women. Needless to say, the situation was beginning to chap Rizzo's ass.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Rizzo grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders, and then whirled the vineyard owner around to face him.

Staring daggers into Guillermo's frightened eyes, Rizzo seethed with dissatisfaction. "Okay, Ortega! What gives? We've been walkin' down here for what seems hours now! And we haven't found a fuckin' thing! You better not be leading us on some wild goose chase, or so help me…!"

"Please Detective," Guillermo pleaded with the angry law enforcement officer. "You must understand. The tunnel system is _vast_! It might take days to search them all!"

_That did it_!

Enraged beyond reason Detective Rizzo savagely grabbed Mr. Ortega's shirtfront then shoved the astonished and fearful man against an unforgiving stone wall, hard.

"Now you listen up," he raged in a raspy voice. "We don't have _days_, fuck, we don't even have _hours_! What I do have are two raving lunatic killers running around on the loose, and two women that have turned up MIA! And if I don't find the killers and soon, God help your wife and Mrs. Lecter!

Nowdo you_ comprende_, pal?"

Nodding dumbly Guillermo answered in a pitiful little voice. "_Si_, Detective I _understand_ perfectly."

Grimacing slightly, the grizzled crime investigator growled. "Good! Now let's kick this search into high gear, shall we?"

Shortly after Ortega gave his consent, Rizzo released him. And the small group of men resumed their search of the catacombs.

To their astonishment and relief, it didn't take them long at all to be rewarded for their efforts.

Off in the distant they could now see the faint illumination of what could only be a gas lantern. Its golden-orange glow pierced through the darkness, a guiding light, burning brightly to beckon anyone to come forth and partake of its warmth.

A collective hush fell over Guillermo and Officer Morgan as Rizzo exclaimed excitedly -

"Jackpot!

I think our search is almost over boys! Morgan, ready your weapon!"

Giving his superior as knowing grin, the young officer acknowledged his orders with a resounding, "Yes sir!"

lllll

Hannibal Lecter quickly regained consciousness with a profound groan as the back of his head throbbed in pain. He had quickly deduced that someone must have snuck up from behind and struck him with one of the many rocks strewn about the cavern. He now found himself lying face down on the ground near the desecrated cadavers of the two dead women.

One had died by Ramon's hand, the other by Hannibal's.

_Tit for tat, I suppose_, Lecter thought groggily as he tried to get up from the dirt floor.

But shockingly his efforts were promptly thwarted by the sudden weight of someone's foot pushing heavily on the back of his neck.

"What in the…?" he mumbled out loud, bewildered.

"Going somewhere, Dr. Lecter?" asked a very familiar voice.

Hannibal tried to contain his astonishment when he suddenly realized who had spoken to him with such a tauntingly harsh tone.

"Mr. Marquez, I presume?" Hannibal did his utmost best to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible through gritted teeth.

A swift kick to the face was the cruel response to his query. As result, Lecter was forced onto his back and summarily pinned to the ground again by the steel-toed footwear crushing his throat.

Feeling a bit disorientated, Hannibal made a supreme effort to remain calm as his blurry vision came into focus. Then all at once the hated visage of his enemy came into view. There he was in all his smug glory, smiling pretentiously, as he loomed above the seemingly helpless doctor.

"In the flesh, Doc," Ramon confirmed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And speaking of flesh" he continued, "I got to hand it to you though. You did a _real_ _nice_ job of carving up my Aunt Jacinta. It was a real _treat_ for me so see you operate! Besides, the old cunt _deserved_ it!"

Leveling an unwavering gaze his mortal enemy, Hannibal scoffed at the thinly veiled compliment.

"So tell me, Ramon. How _exactly_ did you rise from the dead? Playing possum, I see. That's not very sporting of you."

Ramon continued to stare down at Hannibal with glazed over eyes. He appeared lost as he pondered over what his next move should be.

Lecter, who was known to never waste an opportunity, began to surreptitiously glide his long fingers along the sides of his body in search of his scalpel.

But Ramon had anticipated his subtle actions and swiftly put a halt them by removing his foot from the doctor's throat only to kick him in the chest and abdomen in rapid succession.

Hannibal experienced an explosion of great pain that radiated out from the center of his body. As result, he was almost certain that he had suffered a cracked rib or two. However, despite the agony, he never once uttered a sound of protest. Not a moan or a whimper, Hannibal downright refused to give the little prick the satisfaction.

Instead, he endured the torment with the quiet dignity his station in life expected of him. Marquez in the interim grew tired of the assault and decided to plop himself down onto Lecter's injured torso, straddling him with the weight of his body. The pain of having someone sit directly on his chest was indeed excruciating, but his expression remained impassive nonetheless.

Meanwhile Ramon made quick work of spreading out Hannibal's arms away from his body so that his boot clad feet could crunch down on the doctor's wrists, effectively immobilizing him like a flightless butterfly in a display case.

Hannibal watched with disinterested eyes as Ramon slipped his dirty fingers into the right front pocket of his blood stained checkered shirt.

Gradually, he pulled out what appeared to be a shiny instrument. Ramon couldn't help smirking arrogantly when he saw a sudden flash of recognition in Lecter's eyes.

Leaning in close so that his face was only inches away from Hannibal's Marquez whispers mockingly, "Looking for this?"

Without missing a beat, Lecter quipped, "Well, Ramon…I must say that you are a man of many hidden talents. Thank you for finding my scalpel, now be kind enough to return it to me, yes?"

Ramon chuckled heartily, finding the situation slightly humorous. With an evil glint in his eye the young medical student denied the doctor's unreasonable request.

Flashing Hannibal his most unabashed grin, he said, "You'd like that wouldn't you? Would you use it to cut me up into bite-sized pieces just like my aunt? I've always dreamed of having you _eat _me, just not in the literal sense."

Being the wily, manipulative creature that he is, Dr. Lecter realizes very quickly that he may yet be able to turn the tide to his advantage.

_A superior intellect might prevail over brute strength in this case… especially if I know the right buttons to push. And Mr. Marquez, I know EXACTLY how to rattle your cage!_

Suddenly feeling very uninhibited, Lecter demonstrated an assumed wantonness by sensuously licking his full lips, leaving them glistening and wet as he slyly suggested, "If you release me, I can show you just how…_accommodating_ I can actually be."

That last comment certainly got a _rise_ out of Ramon. Lecter grinned triumphantly when he saw the evidence of the boy's arousal outlined in the crotch of his tight fitting dungarees.

Hannibal decided to push a little further, to sweeten the deal and ultimately seal his doom.

With a hoarse whisper, he continued his oral assault. "You have me right where you want me, Ramon. I'm helpless and at your mercy. How many nights did you spend in your lonely room dreaming of this _precise_ moment?

Tell me, Ramon…when you thought of me did you touch yourself? I bet you did.

You probably took a firm hold of that rock-hard cock of yours and started stroking it gently, at first, wishing to God the whole time it was my hand…or perhaps my mouth tightly wrapped around you sucking you off into oblivion?"

Ramon's reaction to Hannibal's words of blatant seduction was immediate. He felt an intense bolt of pleasure shoot down from his spine to the tip of his throbbing penis, causing the boy to shudder with anticipation.

"Stop it!" growled Marquez between clenched teeth, shutting his eyes closed to block out the object of his desire. Struggling with the extreme urges coursing through his body, his large feet weightily squashed Lecter's wrist even further until the tips of his fingers were numb.

But Hannibal was ferociously relentless, refusing to let him go. "No, Ramon! I will not stop. Don't you see? I understand now. You were right, my dear boy, you were right! We DO belong together."

Ramon's eyes flew open. He just couldn't believe his ears! Did he hear Hannibal correctly? His heart began to beat wildly his chest and his palms became moist with nervous perspiration.

Could Ramon dare to hope? Was there an even infinitesimal possibility that Hannibal wanted him too? No, there couldn't be. Feeling dejected, he knew of Lecter's crafty ways and his remarkable gift with a turn of phrase.

But…if there was even a chance, wasn't it worth the risk to find out?

_Yes! Oh God, yes!_

But Ramon Marquez was no fool! He would have to be careful…and keep a level head. If he gave in to his passions too quickly he might inadvertently spring a trap.

He decided then and there that Dr. Lecter would have to prove himself…validate his feelings for Ramon with one simple act...a kiss.

And not just any kiss. It had to fervent…passionate.

Even though the thought of locking lips with Lecter excited him, Ramon cringed at the very strong possibility of seeing the same hint of homophobic repulsion he had witnessed countless times before.

So many others had rejected him, ridiculed him for his feelings.

And if Lecter turned him down, Marquez would be crushed and be forced to kill him too.

However…if the kiss was genuine and given freely, then he would know Hannibal was his and only his.

Readying the scalpel in the event of a heated and humiliating refusal, Ramon took a deep breath before taking the plunge.

"Kiss me…please?" he asked tentatively.

A duplicitous smile spread across the youthful physician's wide mouth.

Hannibal had won. Now it was time to go for the spoils of war.

"Yes, Ramon," he purred. "I _will_ kiss you."

That was all the encouragement the lovesick boy needed.

Still straddling Hannibal, Ramon quickly removed his feet from the man's tender wrists. Then he brought his knees rest on either side of the warm body lying beneath him. He was breathing deeply and sweating profusely when he finally took Lecter's face in his shaking hands.

The scalpel was still plastered to a sticky palm, serving as a grim reminder of the price Hannibal would pay for his deception.

Then without another moment's hesitation, Ramon Marquez swooped down to capture Hannibal's Lecter's mouth with his. From the onset, Ramon kissed Hannibal without mercy. Like a man obsessed, Marquez possessively conquered and devoured the wonderfully supple lips moving hungrily against his own.

An audible gasp whooshed out him, when to his pleasant surprise Hannibal was actually forcing his tongue into Ramon's mouth.

It was a clear invitation to the dance, and Ramon happily accepted it when he began to massage his own tongue against Lecter's. The kiss was everything he had hoped for and more, much more. He felt a delicious madness, a giddy delirium that he never thought possible.

_Mine, mine, mine_, he thought gleefully.

After everything he had endured, he was finally free to do as he pleased. And for Hannibal, Ramon would gladly re-live the scorn of his peers and the sexual perversions of his Aunt Jacinta.

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Since the age of ten, night after night she would visit him in his room. Always whispering, cajoling him to do unspeakable things to her, as greedy hands roamed all over his quivering small body.

She'd whine and plead. "If you love me, you'll do it Ramon! Please kiss me in my secret place."

And like a good boy, he had timidly complied. Over the years had learned to orally pleasure his aunt to the point of exhaustion. His face would always be wet with a mixture of tears and vaginal secretions.

And God, how he had loathed her for it!

He swore that one day he would make her pay. But when he had killed Jimmy Evans instead, he had no where to go, no place to hide. So with a heavy heart he turned the very woman that had been molesting him for help.

After hearing his blubbering confession, a pact had been formed between them. The knife had been hidden and Jacinta provided the police with an air tight alibi. In exchange for her silence, Ramon was forced to continue his "special services". Only then had she agreed to keep his murderous secrets.

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But now she was dead! And he had his Hannibal to thank for slaying the wicked witch! Ramon took it as further proof that Lecter wanted him. With a groan, he willingly showed his appreciation by deepening the kiss between them.

However, somewhere in the back of his mind, Ramon knew that he was flying too close to the Sun, like the Icarus of legend. But at this point but he didn't care. He would gladly melt under the intense heat of a thousand suns to be with this man.

At long last the need for precious oxygen forced the potential lovers to break apart. They were both gasping, trying to catch their breath. Ramon wanted to take a quick reprieve to try to get his bearings but Hannibal would not allow it. With a wicked smile playing his lips, Hannibal laid his hand on the front of Ramon's shirt then proceeded to glide it gently down his clothed chest.

Ramon moaned at the exquisite torment when he felt the hand move lower and lower until….

_Oh sweet Jesus_, Ramon's thoughts exploded from the second he felt Hannibal's fingers start to rub and massage the painful erection still housed inside the crotch of his pants.

Throwing his head back, he abandoned good judgment and gave into the pleasure of having another human being touch him so intimately.

Before he knew what was happening, his zipper had already been pulled down. And when he felt Hannibal's soft hand slip inside and wrap itself around his hard length, Ramon wept for joy.

"Yes, Hannibal," he muttered, lost in his reverie as the other man drew his erect member out and began to fondle it.

Lecter had been silent up until that moment, playing the role of the submissive lover to the hilt. And he did nothing to alert Ramon of his true intentions.

_Let him believe that he is still in control, that he holds all the cards. And just when he is at his zenith of happiness, I will strike him down! _

So Hannibal continued his manual ministrations, alternating between hard and soft strokes, as Ramon gasped and writhed above him.

At last Lecter let his voice be heard. "Do like what I'm doing to you Ramon?"

The boy replied with a helpless whimper, "Yes!"

"Then come for me Ramon! I want to see you come!" Lecter commanded softly when he felt the advent of the boy's climax building up within his scrotum.

With his head still thrown back, Ramon finally surrendered with an ecstatic scream.

"HANNIBAL!" he shouted the name of his beloved, unashamedly as a white hot sticky stream of semen burst forth covering Lecter's working hand.

Then just as Hannibal had intended all along, his enemy was now vulnerable to him. As he still rode out the crest of his amazing orgasm, Ramon Marquez had inadvertently dropped his weapon.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter promptly seized the opportunity. Scooping the knife off the ground, Lecter quickly sat up. Bending his right arm he struck the unsuspecting boy in the nose with his elbow with a resounding crunch.

With a wounded look in his eye, Ramon brought his hands up to cup his broken nose as blood seeped through his fingers. Meanwhile Hannibal had scrambled to his feet ready to do more damage with his blade.

Feeling betrayed Ramon's bleeding face was seething with rage. "You're fucking, lying bastard! You made me believe… you made me think…"

With an angry scowl Hannibal retorted. "Made you think _what_ exactly? That I somehow _wanted_ you, _cared_ for you? Is that what you thought, Mr. Marquez?

Well I hate to disappoint you, but _nothing_ could be further from the truth! You KILLED the only person that had my heart. And now, you miserable little bastard, I'm going to take great pleasure in cutting out yours!"

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"Detective, I think I hear voices straight ahead!" Officer Morgan said excitedly.

Rizzo stopped walking momentarily straining his trained ear to listen. Morgan had been right, there were voices, two of them and distinctly male.

"HOT DAMN, we got 'em! Now, Mr. Ortega you get behind us, we wouldn't want you to get hurt. Morgan, I want you to proceed ahead. And for Christ's sake be QUIET! We don't want to blow our load before we have to, got it?"

Officer Morgan nodded mutely then silently moved forward toward the sound of the shouting voices. Detective Rizzo and Mr. Ortega followed closely behind.

_I got you now, you son-of-a-whore! You won't get away this time, Lecter!_

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In the interim Ramon and Hannibal were already heatedly engaged in battle. Marquez in a fit of rage had lunged forth in an attempt to relieve the doctor of his weapon.

But the cunning doctor had successfully tripped the boy, knocking him to the ground.

Soon though, Ramon was back on his feet and ready to retaliate. Reaching into his pant's pocket he pulled out his own knife. Then like wild beasts, the killers began to circle one another, each looking for an opportune moment to strike.

"You like what I did to your Jap _whore_?" Ramon taunted Hannibal contemptuously. When the doctor refused to answer, Marquez smiled sadistically then added, "Well that's NOTHING compared to what I'm going to do to you!"

He then leapt toward Lecter slashing the air with his blade. But it had been a poorly executed move. Hannibal had been ready for him. Although he managed to slice through Lecter's shirt, cutting the skin beneath, the skilled murderer still managed to grab his attacker's wrist. Applying painful pressure to the point of almost fracturing bone, Ramon was forced to his knees as he dropped the scalpel.

Wanting to incapacitate his foe further, Hannibal rained down a series of bone crunching punches onto his face. After he was assured that Ramon would no longer be a danger to him, he threw his limp body to the cavern floor.

But just as he was about to go in for the kill, the sneaky little bastard threw fistful of dirt and rock into Hannibal's eyes, blinding him. The doctor cried out in pain, blinking his eyes uncontrollably, but it was to no avail.

He then felt his legs kicked out from underneath him, and he was successfully thrown onto his back. Ramon then flung his body back on top of his as he struggled to take the remaining blade from Hannibal.

Hannibal put up a fight, but after grappling in the dirt for a few more moments, Ramon punched him hard in the mouth, loosening a few teeth in the process. While Hannibal was momentarily stunned, Marquez finally managed to retrieve the scalpel.

Swiftly bringing the edge of the knife to Hannibal's exposed carotid artery, Ramon fumed with hate. "Any last words, Dr. Lecter? You're going to scream like the little _bitch_ you are before I'm done with you! I promise!"

And just as the Lecter felt the bite of the blade pierce his skin, he heard someone bellow in an authoritative tone, "Drop the knife, Marquez! Drop it or we'll shoot!"

Hannibal immediately recognized the voice of his dogged pursuer, Detective Frank Rizzo.

Next he heard Ramon's defiant reply, "Then you're gonna have to shoot me, 'cause I'm killing this fucker!"

Afterward the distinct voice of his Uncle Guillermo pleaded with the young killer. "Ramon, please listen to me. Don't do it! Think of your Aunt Jacinta. If she were to find out, this would kill her!"

Ramon howled with wicked laughter. "Too late, Uncle, she's already dead! That's her body right over there!"

Although he could not see, Hannibal was almost certain that Ramon had cruelly pointed out Guillermo's murdered wife.

All at once, the sounds of grief-filled sobs followed by the disgusting dripping heaves of vomiting filled the cave. The gruesome scene must have been too much for the poor man to take.

"If you don't drop your weapon, Marquez…!" Rizzo warned.

Marquez hissed insolently, "Fuck you!"

Ignoring the officer's demand to stand down, he proceeded to cut Hannibal a little deeper.

Seconds later, to Hannibal's relief, an earsplitting shot rang out followed by Ramon Marquez's lifeless body flopping unceremoniously onto his intended victim's body.


	33. Epilogue

**Ravenous**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.

**Summary:** Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.

Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.

With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.

Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.

**Epilogue**

San Quentin State Prison is a sprawling penal complex, spanning approximately 432 acres of Marin County, and located just north of San Francisco. Majestically overlooking the treacherous waters of the bay, at first glance it appears to be a medieval citadel instead of a maximum-security prison for the criminally unredeemable.

Although it is the oldest penitentiary in California, it is still a fortified structure, built strong and impenetrable by the very inmates it had meant to incarcerate. In 1852 the convicts of the prison ship _Waban_ had toiled endlessly, day after day, under the watchful eye of their captors until construction was completed in July of that year.

Meant to house the most iniquitous of offenders for the remainder of their miserable lives, anyone that was sentenced to this institution knew they would never see outside world again.

In its early history, the very mention of the name _San Quentin_ had been enough of a deterrent to keep petty small-time thugs from committing the more serious offenses that could land them behind the high concrete walls and barbed wire fences of the Big House.

No one, absolutely no one wanted to do hard time there, if they could help it.

Terrifying stories had already leaked out regarding the alleged abuses and atrocities the new prisoners had to endure at the hands of the guards. Just hearing about the brutal beatings and the long stints inside solitary confinement with nothing but bread and water for sustenance would scare the average Johnny Wiseass into walking the straight and narrow path henceforth.

However, after decades keeping the numbers low in the general population, the California Correctional Department experienced a sudden influx of inmates with the advent of Prohibition in the 1920's.

Apparently the organized crime syndicate that oversaw most of the illegal bootleg operations on the West Coast in those days had contributed greatly to the prison overcrowding by providing an endless supply of their castoffs. They had been stupid enough to get caught by the long arm of the law, yet were hardened and remorseless nonetheless.

These newcomers were a special breed of criminal indeed, true degenerates and rotten to the core. Shifty-eyed and dangerous, they were cold-blooded murders, sadistic rapists and cunning thieves that would sooner slit a man's throat than look at him.

All were animalistic, bloodthirsty and morally bankrupt.

The previously incarcerated lifers as well as the short timers had cowered in terror at the sight of the recent arrivals. And the prison guards had given them a very wide berth. The inmates and warders alike knew that it would only be a matter of time before the new pack of predators would start thinning out the herd.

For the cons, it was dog eat dog, simply a matter of survival of the fittest.

But for the exasperated warden and the wary guards, that tried bitterly to govern the unruly prisoners, it was all out anarchy. Something had to be done or the inmates would soon overrun the prison and take control.

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By early 1930 an emergency session had been called at the warden's urging to deal with the prison's overcrowding problem. After many days of careful deliberation, critical legislation had been presented and unanimously passed in the California State Senate to bring an ultimate solution to the rampant lawlessness taking place in San Quentin.

A press release was quickly sent to every reputable newspaper in the state. To the penal system's delight every headline boldly proclaimed the following: any criminal tried and convicted of a heinous crime would meet an excruciating and asphyxiating end in the state's first and only gas chamber.

And while the public applauded defense lawyers cringed, not looking forward to the insurrmountable task of fighting this new brand of final justice on behalf of their condemned clients.

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Since 1938, Sergeant Sam McKenna had been charged to escort the "walking dead", as the damned were called, on the last leg of their journey toward the gas chamber. Depsite being a decorated and seasoned correctional officer, he was also an ordained Baptist minister. When the prison experienced some budget cutbacks during second World War, the warden ordered Sam to pull double duty as the prison's chaplain.

Both jobs were trying and thankless, but Sam didn't seem to mind. Over the years he had gotten used to delivering the weekly mail the prisoners. He was also in charge of doling out their sustenance three times a day. Additionally Sam would take inmates, under heavy guard, to the prison yard for much needed excercise.

But his most important duty was to tend to those men scheduled for execution. Taking extra care, McKenna would solemnly deliver their last meal, offer them a smoke and perhaps a few words of comfort before they met their Maker.

Most of the doomed men, bound by some unwritten prison code of defiance, would try to hang tough. Remaining silent and insolent to the end, they refused to show fear, preferring to face their grim fate head on.

But sadly there were always a few cowardly exceptions.

McKenna, during his long tenure, had seen some of the most hard-boiled criminals cry like motherless babes, even going as far as soiling their prison issue pants the moment the solemn chaplain would say those dreaded words: "It's time."

It was during those final moments that the steadfast correctional officer/clergyman would be at his most unflappable. Abject sadness would be tightly restrained behind a stony expression as he accompanied the poor bastard about to die down that last lonely mile.

Clutching his well worn leather-bound Bible, he would always offer up a silent prayer to the Almighty to take mercy on the wretched soul about to meet their Final Judgment.

_Though I walk through the Valley of Death, I shall fear no evil…_

Sam was almost certain that his pockmarked mug was the last friendly face the condemned would see before the heavy door of the gas chamber would be sealed shut. Afterward the toxic fumes from the lethal gas would seep in through the ventilation system of the compartment, promptly dispatching the con strapped into the metal chair located at its core.

The process was quick and painless, death at its most humane, or so the warden had proclaimed. But Sam knew better. Those men had suffered until their last dying breath.

Wracked with guilt, he had spent many a sleepless night sitting on the edge of his lonely bed listening to the ghostly wheezing and panting of the dead fighting for a decent gulp of air.

Tormented, Sam's bloodshot eyes would always cast a nervous glance at the loaded service revolver he always kept on top of the nightstand. The shiny weapon seemed to be an easy way to end his anguish. On those dark nights the temptation to pick it up and put it to good use had been overwhelming.

If it hadn't been for his unflinching faith in God, Sergeant McKenna might have heeded Death's call a long time ago. Instead, he resolved step up his Evangelical efforts by bringing the Good News of salvation and life everlasting through Jesus Christ to the unfortunate residents of Death Row.

As it turned out, saving a few wayward souls from an eternity of damnation was the most satisfying aspect of his job.

At first, some of the inmates were resistant to the Word of God. Sam had expected as much. These cynical prisoners had lived an amoral, godless existence for most of their wretched lives. Completely unredeemable and unapologetic for their crimes, they had little to fear from a society they had already condemned them to die.

But on rare occasions, there were a few that seemed receptive. And through Sam's gentle preaching, they were forced to take good hard look at past transgressions and ultimately repent for their sins.

Sam thought that the same would be true of Prisoner 23-0077-55. It had been ten years ago when Sam first saw him take up residence in Death Row, second cell to the right. And right the very beginning the kindly correctional officer had taken pity on the young lad.

Maybe it had been the boy's youthful appearance that reminded Sam of his own son. A son he had lost to a nasty bought of influenza years before. Or perhaps it had been the young inmate's solitary and quiet demeanor that had set him apart from the other prisoners.

Whatever the reason, Sergeant McKenna had felt inexplicably drawn to the strangely introverted young man. Consequently Sam resolved right there and then that he would not rest until he had saved the boy's eternal soul.

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McKenna, fully aware that outright Bible-thumping would make the boy skittish, had decided that a slow and steady pace would be the way to gain the boy's trust. His first tactic had been to lure his charge into a decent conversation.

Not particularly picky about the topic of discussion, the clergyman would stand outside the 9' by 9' cell and randomly mention the day's weather or the score of the previous night's baseball game.

But when the boy remained silent, Sam would only smile. "Not a big sports fan, are you?" he'd ask with a friendly smile. A dispassionate stare from those big brown eyes had been the only reply.

_No matter_, Sergeant McKenna would say to himself. _I'll win you over yet._

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The years had quickly passed and the reclusive boy had grown into a more reclusive man.

Still, after all this time, the quietly defiant prisoner refused to speak to anyone except his beleaguered attorney, Mr. Humphries. Aside from those monthly visits from his lawyer to discuss the lack of progress on his appeals case, he had no other visitors. No friends or relatives of any kind to speak of.

Sam found it disconcerting and a little sad that this seemingly wholesome looking young man had no one on the outside. He seemed all alone in this world. Nobody appeared to gave a damn about him. Perhaps that was the reason that Prisoner 23-0077-55 hadn't uttered a single word in almost ten years.

The young man's abject loneliness and isolation only managed to steel Sergeant McKenna's resolve to keep up his one-man crusade to reach out to him and save his soul.

However, Sam was nobody's fool. He had been around enough convicts to know not to have any allusions about the man he'd been keen on saving.

Being the thorough and inquisitive correctional officer that he was, Sergeant McKenna had done his homework. He knew, after reading 23-0077-55's prison record that he was dealing with a brutal killer who had been tried and convicted of murdering three people in cold blood.

The nature of his crimes had been horrific, to be sure. The boy had taken great pains to not only slaughter his victims; he had mutilated them as well.

And yet, day after day, month after month, year after year Sergeant McKenna would demonstrate his kindness and good intentions by sharing details of his humble life, and how his devotion to the Lord had changed it for the better.

But 23-0077-55 had remained as silent as a stone, hard and unmoved. Not once had the inmate showed any interest, one way or the other, in what Sam had to say. He would just sit on his cot, dark eyes staring off into infinity as the determined man of the cloth prattled on about salvation and the Here After.

Over time Sergeant McKenna, afraid that his own words had fallen on deaf ears, was becoming discouraged. So he had decided to take evasive action. The only way to reach the boy now would be directly through the Word of God.

So with infinite patience, Sam commenced the daily ritual of setting an old wooden three-legged stool in front of 23-0077-55's cell. Slowly, he'd scoot the small chair as close as he could get it to the cell door, ever mindful to stay out of reach of the criminal dwelling just beyond the metal bars. Then with a calm and steady voice he would begin to read aloud from the Good Book for one solid hour.

But the Book of Genesis had not swayed the boy's interest at all. And Exodus had not been well received either. But Sam kept at it. And after weeks of carefully reading through the books of the Old Testament, the preacher-turned- prison guard was finally rewarded for his diligence with a response.

Much to McKenna's surprise it had been a long drawn out yawn.

To any other person, it would have been an obvious expression of boredom and displeasure. But to Sam it was a start.

_At least it's better than having you stare at that wall all the time, pretending I don't exist_, McKenna had mused with a hopeful smile.

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By the time the first pages of Luke's Gospel had been turned, the harsh winter of 1960 had melted into spring. And just as the world beyond the prison walls had renewed itself, Sam had at last captured 23-0077-55's full attention.

"So, you really think these little stories actually make a difference?" the inmate sudddenly asked with a sardonic tone.

Sam swiftly looked up from the dog-eared pages of the Holy Scripture, surprised and elated to hear 23-0077-55's voice at last. Although the prisoner was still on his cot, he was now perched on its edge. McKenna quickly observed a pair of black hollowed out eyes intensely focused on him. Sam could see that the expression etched across the convict's still boyish countenance teetered somewhere between blasé annoyance and trivial amusement.

He also noticed that the incarcerated man's small slim body had lost its usual lethargic pose and was presently taut with tension. 23-0077-55 was wound up tighter than a top, and Sam was compelled to know the reason for such contained hostility.

"Yep," the penal officer carefully replied to the earlier query. "I actually do."

Not moving a muscle off his makeshift perch, 23-0077-55 turned his head ever-so-slightly toward Sam. And then to the chaplain's amazement, he cracked a smile, his first in almost a decade.

The amiable gesture should have warmed the cockles of correctional officer's heart. Instead, the overly toothy grin had chilled him to the bone. As Sam stared into the cold eyes peering back at him, he immediately found the root for his newfound repulsion toward the youthful looking man.

Looking into the soulless, unrepentant face of Death itself shot an arrow of fear straight into Sam's fluttering heart. And that smile, that evil, evil smile made Sam realize that no amount of preaching would ever redeem the man that wielded it.

Feeling dejected, Sam's shoulders slumped in bitter defeat as he unconsciously scooted his stool back away from the cell.

_Lord, forgive me_, he prayed silently. _I'm afraid I've wasted my time. This man is lost and wishes to remain so. You know I've done my best to try to bring him to You, Jesus. But sadly, __o__h Lord, I cannot save the damned. And this one is Hell bound, of that there is no doubt. I can only ask that when his time comes, You take mercy on his soul._

Sergeant McKenna's retreat had not gone unnoticed by the keenly observant prisoner.

"What's the matter, _padre_?" the convict asked with a disgusted sneer. "Are you disappointed that your _fairytales_ didn't persuade me to fall on my knees? Tell me why should I ask for forgiveness from a god I _know_ doesn't exist?"

Shocked and dismayed by 23-0077-55's disdain for God's message, Sergeant McKenna could only shake his head in disbelief. He had mistakenly believed this man was meek and humble, a wayward lamb in need of returning to the fold.

He knew now he had the Devil in his midst.

Undeterred by the chaplain's alarmed expression, the loathsome convict continued his tirade, his every word dripping heavily with malice.

"You know what I think? I think that your little book is _bullshit_! It's nothing but a pack of lies, a list of meaningless rules devised to pacify and control mindless and gullible people like you! I believe Karl Marx said it best. '_Religion is an opiate of the people_'. Luckily for me, I've always been immune to the mind-numbing affects of your so-called god!"

Angered by the convict's blasphemous words, Sam suddenly clutched his precious Bible to his chest as if it were his solemn duty to protect the Holy Scripture with his very life.

Compelled to defend his faith, Sam was moved to plead his case one last time. He implored the condemned man to listen to reason. "He does exist! If you would only let Jesus into your heart, you'd see and you'd know the Truth!"

Watery blue eyes searched the insolent prisoner's face for a sign that Sam's impassioned words had made an impact. He wanted to see a semblance of humanity, some redeemable trait that would make this defiant man worthy of the Lord's deliverance.

But sadly he found none.

Then without a word of warning, 23-0077-55 swiftly leapt off his bed and rushed toward the cell door, snarling and gnashing his teeth like some raving beast.

As his hands gripped the iron bars of his cell, he let out a ferocious growl followed by a violent scream, "Get the fuck out of here, _padre_! You won't be collecting _my_ immortal soul today or any other day for your _faggot_ Christ!

You'd better leave while you still can and don't come back! Because if you don't go, I'll find my way out of this cage and EAT your heart right out of your chest! Do you hear me, _padre_? I'll fucking KILL you! Now get the hell out of my sight, you self-righteous piece of shit!"

Gasping for air, a visibly shaken Sergeant McKenna abruptly rose from his stool, knocking it over in the process. With Bible in hand, he blindly ran out of Death Row as if he were being chased by Lucifer himself. Wild-eyed and scared out of his skull, he swiftly exited the prison, never to return.

Later on that night, while he sat on the edge of his own bed, Sergeant Sam McKenna finally picked up that service revolver, opened up his mouth and fired a bullet straight into his brain, forever silencing the malicious, odious sacrilege that had spewed out of the mouth of Ramon Marquez, prisoner 23-0077-55.

lllll

Shortly after Sergeant McKenna's unfortunate suicide, another officer had taken his place. But unlike his do-gooder predecessor, this new guard was a hulking, silent brute that had no desire to befriend his charges or engage them in idle chit-chat.

And that suited Ramon just fine.

After exhausting all possibilities for an appeal, the date for his execution had finally been handed down by the warden. And Marquez had no intention of spending his final days on earth listening to the endless drivel of some misguided theist.

He had heard about McKenna blowing his brains out through the prison grapevine, but felt no remorse for the part he might have played in the man's untimely death. The way Ramon saw it he did the poor slob a favor.

As his date with the gas chamber drew nearer, Ramon surrendered to the monotony of daily routine. Around six a.m. he'd awaken to the sound of the morning siren and quickly get dressed. The guards would then go through the unnecessary practice of roll-call. Next, after his morning constitutional, Ramon would heartily dig into the finest slop San Quentin had to offer.

Then Ape Man (as Ramon had dubbed the new guard) would appear with another inept officer to take him out of his cell. Shackled and chained to the gills, he was all gussied up for his one hour communion with nature. This of course consisted of being dragged around the concrete prison yard, like a dog on a leash, rain or shine. Afterward, he would be placed back in his cell for the remainder of the day. Dinner would then be served promptly at six followed by "lights out" at nine.

And so it was, day after day, the same boring routine. There were never any deviations, nothing to spice things up to make his fleeting time here a bit more… _interesting_.

On what seemed to be yet another uneventful day Ape Man suddenly appeared in front of his cell. Ramon, who had been lying on his bed reading a book, quickly bolted up, his eyes wide and filled with morbid curiosity.

As his heart raced, he wondered fearfully,_ is it that time already?_ He was almost certain the end had finally come. But after a taking a quick glance at his wall calendar, Ramon was relieved to see he still had two weeks left.

Ape Man's deadpan baritone reverberated through the cellblock as he stated the reason for his unscheduled arrival. "On your feet, Marquez, you have a visitor."

Ramon was stunned. "A visitor?" he parroted as his mind shuffled through the possibilities of who his mystery guest might be.

The guard simply nodded in the affirmative with a gorilla-like grunt.

Looking to the bulky guard for answers, Ramon was compelled to ask, "Is it my lawyer… Mr. Humphries?"

Ape Man refused to confirm or deny the identity of the visitor. Instead he unlocked the door, entered the cell and ordered Ramon to assume the familiar position of facing the back wall so that he could be bound by the heavy weight of iron shackles.

Gradually, the unwelcome sensation of ice cold trepidation crept up his spine as Ramon Marquez hesitantly complied with the guard's orders.

lllll

After being properly restrained, a few moments later Ramon found himself being silently led toward Death Row's visitation area. It was an undersized windowless room (save for the observation glass on the door) reserved for final farewells with loved ones or frantic defense lawyers trying to get their doomed clients a last minute reprieve from the governor, all while armed guards looked on in silence.

The space was small and made smaller still by the enormous rectangular wooden table which split the room in half, adding to the claustrophobic ambiance. On either side of the table were two stiff looking chairs built for functionality, not comfort. The source of illumination was from a single fluorescent lamp which cast an eerily ghostly glow throughout the room.

A few minutes later, Ramon found himself standing outside the visitation room. And just as the guard slid the key into the lock, the condemened man was suddenly gripped with the fear of the unknown. Who could be waiting to see him just beyond the door?

As he pondered the terrifying possibilites, Ramon actually started to tremble...all over.

He was abruptly stirred out of his reverie by the accompanying officer's booming voice. "What's the matter?" the correctional employee asked. "You're shakin' like a leaf Marquez."

Ramon lips formed a thin line before he answered quietly, "Nothing, just nervous. I don't know who would want to see me after all this time. I have no family to speak of…absolutely no one."

That last statement was true. His parents had been killed in car crash shortly after his trial and his Uncle Guillermo had died after a long battle with colon cancer in '58. As for what remained of his siblings, all had publicly disowned him years ago. Not that he cared. As far as he was concerned his so-called family could all rot in hell.

The guard, not concerned with one iota about the boy's worries, simply shrugged his massive shoulders as he swung open the door, at last revealing the visitor already seated at the table.

He simply pushed the shackled prisoner into the confining quarters then shut the door with a resounding clang.

Keeping his eyes to the ground Ramon slowly approached the massive table with great trepidation. Carefully he slid into the empty chair holding in his breath the entire time.

When he finally allowed himself to exhale, Ramon slowly turned a wary eye toward the occupant of the chair opposite his...

Loudly he gasped, seized by the unexpected yet sickening sensation of the walls closing in all around him. He felt the weight of his chains constrict his body. Fighting against terror's grip, Marquez began to wheeze, as he struggled for his next breath. He felt trapped and cornered like a wild animal.

He wanted to flee, to run, to hide from the unbelievable sight sitting calmly before him.

But despite his best efforts, Ramon Marquez quicky came to the realization that attempts to escape were futile. The restraints were unbreakable, rendering him defenseless against the impending onslaught of his foe.

Not a praying man by nature, Marquez cast his atheism aside just this once. Silently, desperately he broadcast his distress signal toward the heavens in the vain hope that some random diety would listen. Budda, Allah or Jesus Fucking H. Christ, it didn't matter to him at the moment. Someone had to save his miserable undeserving skin. Or at the very least cause a powerful earthquake that could violently crack the cement floor and create a wide chasm that would ultimately swallow him whole.

But the possibility of a killer quake manifesting itself in the next sixty seconds seemed highly unlikely. Ramon then briefly contemplated asking the guard to bash his brains in with his nightstick instead. Actually, the idea of suffering a thousand horrific deaths at the hands of any of the sadistic correctional officers seemed more appealing than coming face to face with his past.

Except, no matter how much he tried to wish it all away, there was no escaping the murderous glint of those burgundy colored eyes staring at him intently. Despite Ramon's best efforts to remain impassive, he was captivated once more by the unforgettable gaze. A gaze that still dominated his day dreams and haunted his nightmares.

Minutes ticked away in agonizing silence as Ramon continued to gawk at the very man he had idolized, worshiped, loved even. A man that had shared Ramon's lust for blood and yet was instrumental in his downfall. He had bested Ramon, beat at his own game. A feat that in some social circles inspired awe and admiration. But in Ramon's small exclusive corner of the world, it only envoked utter defeat and abject fear.

Not able to stand the silence another moment, with trembling lips, Ramon Marquez dared to whisper the name of the triumphant vanquisher seated before him.

"_Hannibal_."

lllll

Dr. Hannibal Lecter smiled at Ramon as if he were seeing a long lost friend. Seemingly untouched by the passage of time, he was as handsome as ever in Ramon's eyes. Always the perfectionist, Hannibal was dapperly dressed in a freshly pressed cream colored linen suit. Perched atop his perfect coiffed head was a wide brimmed Panama hat which cast half of his beautiful face in shadow.

The Doctor's maroon eyes danced with devilish mischief as his silky voice drawled out, "Hello Ramon. How have you been?"

lllll

The next morning Death Row's new head guard walked into cell block ready to take charge of the day.

After punching in, he gingerly strutted over to the bulletin board to grab the roll-call clipboard before he met up with his second in command. Both men prepared to walk the expanse of the cellblock as they sounded off the names of the condemned.

As the lead guard began to leisurely stroll down the catwalk, his companion bellowed out the first name on the list in alphabetical order, "_Adams_…"

By the time they got the M's, it was already mid-morning. "Damn," the head officer commented to his partner, "Roll-call's taking longer than usual. We're already behind schedule."

The younger guard, a pudgy freckled-faced redheaded kid named Rick, replied, "Yeah, I know. I guess you can blame the warden. He keeps packing these _freaks_ in here like sardines. Pretty soon we'll run out of room."

The older man acknowledged the younger guard's statement with a nod followed by a grunt. Wanting to wrap things up, the jailers quickly sauntered over to the next cell to call out the subsequent name on the list.

"_Malone, Jeffery,_" Rick's voice rang out.

The inmate answered with a resounding, "Here, sir!"

Both men satisfied by the quick response, decided to move on to the next cell.

Without brothering to look up from his clipboard, the head guard called, "_Marquez, Ramon_."

When he did not receive an immediate response, his voice boomed loudly, only this time with great annoyance, "Come on, Marquez! You know the drill!"

Again his command went unanswered, which incensed the head guard to no end. Quickly he rolled his eyes from the sheet of paper as he started to yell, "That's it, Marquez! I've had about enough of…" But when he saw the horrific sight of Ramon Marquez's limp body dangling in mid-air with a bed sheet noose wrapped tightly around his now broken neck, the officer's voice abruptly faltered.

Full-blown panic immediately flooded his mind and body. "Oh sweet Jesus, sound the alarm!" he barked the frantic order to the frightened carrottop guard.

When the younger man hesitated to move from the spot he seemed rooted on, his commander screamed at him again. "Sound the _fucking_ alarm, Rick! DO IT, _NOW_!"

lllll

_One week later..._

Back in his tastefully decorated home, located in the affluent Baltimore neighborhood of Roland Park, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was nearing the end of an intricate Shinto ceremony. He had carefully performed all of the rituals in accordance to the Bushido Code which exalts the virtues of filial piety.

Wearing a blue ceremonial _kimono_ with a fiery red _obi_ tied around his waist, he bowed reverently in front of the custom built altar which was adorned with the charcoal renderings of sweet Mischa and his only great love, Lady Murasaki. An unsheathed _katana _sword lay across the outstretched palms of his hands which Hannibal now slowly raised above his head as sign of respect and loyalty for the honorable dead.

"Murasaki, my beloved," he whispered softly. "I have finally avenged you. You'll be happy to know that I was able to persuade Mr. Marquez to do the honorable thing by forfeiting his life. His mind, a fragile thing really, shattered under the weight of my words, splintering into a thousands fragments like crystal. Your spirit may rest now, dear one. A place of honor waits you alongside your ancestors. I will continue to miss you. But know this: as long as this body draws breath, I will continue honor your memory every single day of my life! This I swear to you, milady! This I swear!"

He then lowered the sword as a solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

lllll

Moments later, as Dr. Lecter began to dress for dinner he heard the chime of his front doorbell. Although it was still early in the evening, he was quite surprised. Since he had planned to dine alone tonight, he was certainly not expecting any visitors.

Yet, he did not wish to be rude, so he gracefully found his way to the front door to greet the unforeseen guest.

When he opened the door, to his disappointment, he found a poorly dressed little man with bushy eyebrows and a poorly trimmed mustache. Hannbial's observant eyes immediatley fell upon the man's grubby little hands which tightly gripped a scuffed up briefcase overstuffed with papers.

Huge owlish eyes peered out at the doctor from behind a pair of hideously ugly horn rimmed glasses. And to make matter worse, he reeked of the bureaucratic stench reserved for only public servants or spinster-ish librarians. The man's presence immediately offended Dr. Lecter.

Oblivious to Hannibal's distaste, the unkempt little man greeted him in a overly friendly manner. "Good evening to you, sir. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've been canvassing this neighborhood all day and boy am I tired!"

Hannibal continued to look upon the despicable speck of man with mild disdain. Yet, when he finally addressed his unwanted guest, he exuded nothing but charm and warmth.

"It's perfectly alright. There's no need to apologize. You said you've been in the neighborhood today? Doing what exactly, if I may inquire?"

The man realizing that he had not yet stated his business, smiled sheepishly at the well dressed man standing before him.

And much to Hannibal's displeasure the man began to prattle on incessantly. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Well, as you may already know the country is conducting a census of its citizens. Everyone must stand up and be counted so to speak. Anyway, as an employee of the U.S. Census Department it's my job to count everyone that lives in Roland Park. I came by earlier today, but there was nobody home, so I had decided to come back later. So here I am, ready to count you! So tell me Mister…."

"It's _Doctor_," Hannibal quickly corrected him. "Dr. Lecter."

Again the man made a poor attempt at an apology before droning on. "Sorry about that. So Dr. Lecter, is there any one else home? The Missus perhaps?"

"No, I live alone."

The man's owl-like eyes took a good look at the palatial interior of Hannibal's home before the government employee rambled on in disbelief, "Wow, in this great big house? Must be nice, eh? Anyway, I was wondering if you could take a few minutes to fill out this 20 page questionnaire."

As Dr. Lecter watched the census worker pop open his briefcase then reach inside to pull out the survey he had no intention of filling out, Hannibal only smiled in spite of his growing annoyance.

With the friendliest tone he could muster, he asked his unwary guest, "Have you had dinner yet, Mister…?"

"Adleman, Mr. Adleman. But you can call me Andy. To answer your question, Dr. Lecter, no I haven't had supper yet. In fact I haven't had a bite all day!"

Hannibal's smile widened showcasing his small white teeth.

"Then that settles then! I would be honored if you would be a guest at my table, Mr. Adleman."

A little taken aback of the sudden invitation, the census taker shook his head. "Oh, I couldn't. I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't be imposing at all!" Hannibal reassured him. "Please do come in. I'll prepare you a fine meal accompanied by an excellent Chianti that I've been saving for an occasion such as this. Afterward, I'll complete your little survey then you can be on your way."

Warmed by the Doctor's show of hospitality, Andy felt immediatly at ease. He was famished and it would be rude of him to turn down such a gracious man's invitation. So he decided to cross threshold into Lecter's lair, smiling at him with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter for your kind invitation. By the way what are we having?"

As Dr. Hannibal Lecter closed the door behind him, he looked intently at the defenseless census taker with hungry eyes.

"I do hope you like liver, Mr. Adleman. I know I do."

THE END


End file.
